


The Demon Piper

by Wolfjackle



Series: Rewrite the Stars [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: (not the horseman), But they want to go with him, Crowley is Good With Kids (Good Omens), Crowley is the Pied Piper, Fairy Tale Retellings, Famine - Freeform, Gen, He Steals Kids, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Nothing explicit, Rats, The Pied Piper - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:07:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23781328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfjackle/pseuds/Wolfjackle
Summary: Crowley is passing through Hamelin, Germany in 1284 when he senses disquiet in the town and decides to stick around to see if he can claim anything on a report to Hell. Turns out a rat infestation has led to major food shortages and the town's children are the ones dealing with the worst of it. He decides to interfere. And so a legend that will survive centuries is born.
Series: Rewrite the Stars [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1721206
Comments: 84
Kudos: 101





	1. Chapter 1

Crowley sat in the corner of the tavern, watching the locals from behind his colored glasses. He hadn’t planned on stopping in this random German town, but the taste of anger and desperation overpowered him as he was passing through. Something was going on here and he figured he could capitalize on it for a report to Hell. If it was bad enough, he might get a few months of peace before being handed new orders.

Maybe a dozen people had gathered in the tavern. Oddly enough, very few had ordered any food even though it was dusk. Everyone had a tankard of ale or beer, just as Crowley did, but dinner seemed to be forgotten. 

The other patrons had all bunched together at a few tables in front of the large fireplace. Conversation focused on the harsh winter and dwindling supplies. Crowley drank from his beer thoughtfully; fear was easy to manipulate.

The door banged open and a large middle-aged man entered the tavern along with a blast of icy air. Conversation stopped as everyone turned to look. One man held up his beer in a toast, “Mayor Hardrat, you’re back! You’ve got good news, I hope?”

“For once this God damned winter I do.” He pulled off his cloak and hung it on a rack by the door. A woman moved from the chair directly in front of the fire and the mayor sat down. A serving girl brought over a pitcher and poured him a beer. He ignored her as he traded greetings with the other patrons. The couple who owned the tavern left their work to join the group. Crowley leaned forward in his seat, interested to see what had the man so excited.

The mayor waited until everyone was situated and focused on him before speaking. “First, food. I’ve got a few more rat catchers coming over the next few weeks, not that I’ve much hope for them. And managed to buy a supply of grain. Not enough, but it’ll be delivered in the next few days, weather permitting. Besides that, I’ve managed to convince two groups to visit next week and I would urge all of you to take advantage if you can. Early next week, recruiters from the Church will come. They’re primarily looking for young men and older boys to train as soldiers. The crusades in the east are over, but there are still campaigns in the west to win. They’re also looking for people to maintain weapons, manage horses, take care of laundry and cooking. They’ll take over ten or so who might prove useful.”

A crash sounded from against the opposite wall. The girl who had poured the Mayor his drink stood by the doorway into the kitchen. A metal pitcher was on the floor and beer puddled around her feet and soaked her dress. She was pale, evident even in the firelight. Crowley didn’t have to be a demon to taste the fear pouring off her in waves.

A burst of anger, peppery on the back of his tongue, drew his attention as her mother turned on her from where she had been standing listening to the mayor. “Stupid girl!” she yelled as she rushed over and slapped the child across her face. “Useless! Clumsy! Can’t you even keep hold of a pitcher? Go get some rags to clean this up and don’t disrupt us again!”

Crowley’s eyes narrowed and the woman tripped and fell on her way back to the others. The girl was right to be afraid of the crusades. He’d thought the Church had learned its lesson about taking kids on campaigns after the disaster of the Children’s Crusade. The girl, whose face had been blank until that point, turned to hide a smirk at her mother’s predicament as she left, presumably to gather the cleaning supplies. Her mother cursed as she pushed herself up and returned to her previous spot by her husband. They both apologized for their daughter’s interruption and assured the mayor it wouldn’t happen again.

The mayor scowled. “It better not. Any questions about the Church?”

Crowley was already making plans. He could prevent the recruiters from ever getting near the town. That’d score him some brownie points from Hell _and_ keep the kids safe.

One of the other townsmen stood up, hands clenched into fists on the table. “What if we don’t have kids old enough for that? There’s not enough food even for the Missus and I, let alone the three little ones we’ve got.” He was a much younger man, not far out of childhood himself to Crowley’s eye. 

“That’s where the second group comes in. For the younger ones, or the ones the Church won’t take, at the end of the week there’ll be a man coming. He deals in people – indentured servants and slaves. He’ll take anyone of any age except for babes who haven’t been weaned. And even then, he could be convinced to take mother and babe as a pair.”

The young man nodded once and fidgeted with the sleeve of his tunic. He was more than tempted; Crowley didn’t have to be a demon to know that. The man felt guilty, the taste sour in Crowley’s mouth, but he’d do it.

Crowley found his attention dragged back to the serving girl as the group debated the details of selling their children. She gripped a rag tightly in her hands, cleaning forgotten, as she glared at the adults. The anger and hatred that poured off her overpowered the taste of his beer as he watched her over his mug.

She must have come to some decision because she turned back to her work with determination. Clearly frustrated, she used much more force than necessary to wring out the soaked rag into a bucket. In no time at all she was done. She whipped the rag into the bucket and rushed upstairs. Her steps silent despite her anger.

While she was gone, conversation drifted to how much people thought they could get for anyone sold into service. Boys would be worth more, of course. But age and skills also needed to be considered. Crowley listened with half an ear, sick with the casual way they were discussing how much coin this girl or that boy could be worth. When the girl crept back down the stairs, she had a younger sister with her. The elder had changed her into a clean dress and both had on boots and thick cloaks. Sticking to the shadows against the wall, they made their way into the kitchen without attracting any notice.

Intrigued, Crowley slid up from his seat and decided to follow them. Wrapping shadows around himself, he made his way through the room unseen.

He entered the kitchen just in time to see the back door close behind the two girls. He followed them through the dark alleys and side streets until they stopped at a house just down the way. Both girls picked up snow or rocks from the ground and tossed it at the wall next to a window on the second floor until the shutters opened, and a dark-haired boy stuck his head out.

He waved but didn’t say anything as the girls gestured him to come down. He held up one finger and ducked back inside. While waiting for him to join them, the girls stomped their feet and rubbed hands together to stay warm. Crowley had given up on feeling warm two months ago when the cold had settled into his bones.

When the boy came out, he and girls had a short, whispered conversation, that Crowley couldn’t make out. With a nod, the boy ran off in one direction while the girls went in a different one. Crowley stuck to the girls. 

They stopped at two more houses, adding another three children to the group. By this point, they were at the edge of town. They stopped at a large stable and the older sister from the inn knocked a pattern on the door. A moment later a boy who looked remarkably like the mayor, opened it and the group filed in. 

Crowley crept closer to the door only to have to dive behind a crate when he heard more children coming. Only two in this group. One knocked in the same pattern as before and they were let in. Crowley waited a few minutes longer before daring to look for some way to see into the building. He circled the building and found a small window. The shutters were closed, but one of the slats had broken off so he could peer inside. A group of ten children sat inside on crates and makeshift seats around a few buckets of coals to keep warm. The oldest ones looked to be about fifteen or so and the youngest couldn’t have been over five. Stalls lined the sides of the building, many housing horses. Whoever owned this barn must be well-off to have that many beasts.

The kids were all talking over each other until the mayor’s son stood up, quieting everyone down. “My father returned today. He wouldn’t tell me anything, but he went to the inn and Linde heard everything.”

The older girl from the inn stood, “It’s bad, everyone. I don’t...” Her voice cracked. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath and gripped her sister’s shoulder, "They plan to sell us, either to the Church or to a slaver. The church will come early next week, the slaver a few days later. The Church wants people for the crusades and won’t just take fighters, but anyone over ten who can help out around a camp.”

Silence took over for a moment once she stopped talking. Then chaos as everyone tried to talk over everyone else. Crowley could hear crying and taste fear and anger and despair. 

He closed his eyes and remembered little bodies exposed as flood waters receded. He remembered a tomb marked with salt that had once been a town filled with people. He remembered villages visited by plague. Countless battlefields. A Children’s Crusade that ended with thousands scattered to the four winds never to return home. He couldn’t stop any of them, but he’d walk back to Hell permanently before he’d turn away without doing _something_ for these kids. 

He would give them a third option. And make sure they lived long enough to make their own choices.

Mind made up, he left his hiding spot by the window and walked to the main door and knocked in the same pattern as the kids had. Everyone was still talking loudly inside. He knocked again, louder this time. The voices quieted down, and someone asked, “Did you hear that?” He knocked a third time and there was a moment of silence before the door opened. The mayor’s son stood there holding a knife and looking at him suspiciously.

“Sounds like you kids could use some help.”

The boy raised his knife higher. Behind him, the girl from the inn, Linda or something, raised a shovel. Behind her huddled her younger sister and the youngest boy in the group. The third older child brandished a pitchfork. Crowley couldn’t help but smirk at the tableau. These kids had spirit, that’s for sure.

“Who are you?” demanded the knife-wielder.

Big-inn-girl responded before Crowley could. “You’re our guest at the inn. Did you follow us here? Why?”

Crowley shrugged. “Curiosity. Never could leave well enough alone, me. My name is Crowley and I think I can help you out. Mind if I join you?” No one moved and the demon sighed. He reached under his cloak revealing a satchel that had not been there a moment before. He pulled out two cloth wrapped items. He unwrapped one revealing a large chunk of cheese. “Hear me out and I’ll feed you.” 

That got them to move. The weapons were lowered and some of the younger children had to be held back from running up to him. Crowley bit his cheek and blood to filled his mouth. With a silent blessing at his loss of control, he swallowed the mouthful and healed the injury. When he smiled at them, his teeth looked human and no hint of blood remained. 

The mayor’s son still gripped his knife tightly, but it was pointed at the floor. He couldn’t look away from the food. “Why do you want to help us?”

Crowley rolled his eyes, not that they could tell behind his glasses. “Let’s sit, I’ll cut up the bread and cheese, and then we can talk business while actually comfortable.”

The three main defenders exchanged looks before they nodded. Crowley settled on an upturned bucket; the others took similar seating arrangements with the littlest on someone’s lap. Crowley took out a knife from its sheath on his hip and cut thick slices from the cheese and bread and passed it around. The older ones tried to stop the younger from immediately setting on the food, but they could sooner have stopped the sun from rising. When the little ones exclaimed that it was good, the older ones gave in and ate just as quickly. Crowley had to clench his jaw to keep from hissing his anger. He waved off any thanks they tried to give him for the meal.

Big-inn-girl was the first to speak. “Why do you want to help us, Mr. Crowley?”

“Just Crowley, no ‘Mister’ for me. Why don’t we start with introductions? I think I heard your name was Linda or something?”

She blushed, “Right, of course. Sorry, we should have realized. I’m Herlinde, Linde for short. This is my sister, Isentrud.” She put her arm around her sister’s shoulders.

The mayor’s son introduced himself as Albrecht. The boy who had threatened him with a pitchfork was Werner. Everyone else followed suit. Crowley knew he’d never be able to keep the names straight.

Once they were done, Crowley nodded. “So, would I be right is assuming Linde, Albrecht, and Werner are the leaders of this little group?”

Albrecht shrugged. “As much as anyone could be considered a leader, I suppose. We know everyone and can get around a bit easier than most of the other kids. Linde is always running errands for her parents and I send messages for my dad, he’s the mayor, and Werner’s family is the richest in town, so he helps us smuggle supplies. He also keeps lists and things because he’s been educated.”

“Sounds like a pretty good set up. So, Mayor-boy, if you could do _anything_ for the kids here, what would it be?”

“I’d take them away. Bring them somewhere we could look after ourselves. Our parents wouldn’t miss us, just fewer mouths to feed and bills to pay, but we don’t have enough supplies or anywhere to go.”

“Forget all the reasons why it’s impossible for a minute, if you could, if you had somewhere to go, would you leave? All of you?” Crowley looked around at every kid in the stable.

A chorus of nods and yeses answered his question.

“Then that’s what I’ll help you do. How many of you are there?”

“You probably just want to sell us yourself,” scoffed one kid. Some agreed with him, while others just wanted to know how he planned to help them.

Crowley ignored them all. “How many?” he repeated.

Albrecht shrugged, but Werner pulled out a book and flipped through it. “Well over a hundred children here who’d be interested in leaving. Probably a hundred twenty to forty. All ages, too. Youngest are still toddlers while Albrecht, Linde, and I are among the oldest at fifteen-sixteen.”

Crowley whistled. What was going on in this town that so many of the adults were terrible? “I can help you get out. Bring all of you someplace safe. Help you survive through at least the winter. Possibly longer. And if I do have to leave, I’ll make sure you’re set up well enough to survive if you’re smart about it. What’s in the book?”

“I keep a list of the families with kids in here and if anyone needs anything, they let me know and I make note of it. Then Linde helps figure out how to get them what they need.”

“Sounds like you’re more organized than most armies. So you’re the Scribe, then, eh?” Crowley turned to Linde. “And you’re the General who manages the troops and supplies.”

Said General looked at him like he had two heads causing Crowley to reach up and make sure his glasses were still on and run his tongue over his teeth to make sure he hadn’t grown fangs. “Why are you offering to help us and why should we trust you?” she asked.

Crowley shrugged. “My Mother abandoned me when she decided I wasn’t the perfect, golden child she wanted. She played favorites and kicked out anyone who didn’t adhere to her draconian rules. It bothers me when I see others like Her who are willing to make their kids suffer.” 

Linde did not look convinced. “That might explain why you’d give us a bite to eat, but it doesn’t explain why you’d go so far as to take care of us and give us shelter.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Because there have been far too many times when I couldn’t help. The church wants to take some of you on crusades? I’ve seen the aftermath of those battlefields. Bodies scattered everywhere, lives ruined, children dead in their homes. I’ve seen the way people treat their slaves and indentured servants. The idea of walking away and leaving any of you to that fate is repulsive.”

She bit her lip and looked away but didn’t say anything.

Crowley looked them all over. “Look, I know you don’t have any reason to trust me. But I’ll do what I can to help. Unfortunately, you only have a limited time to choose. There’s a maze of caves in the mountains to the south I can bring you to. They open near a valley that’s currently uninhabited. There’s plenty of room to grow food and pasture animals. I promise to do my best to help you survive at least this winter. I’ll swear it on anything you ask me to. Except God. And I only have that exception because I haven’t had trust in Her in a long time and it’d be a worthless promise.”

No one spoke for what seemed like an age. The kids kept looking at him, then away. Finally, Scribe asked, “Would it be alright if we had a few minutes to discuss this amongst ourselves?”

“Right! Of course, yeah. No problem. I’ll just wait outside, shall I? Come get me when you’ve made your decision.” With a wave he left before another word could be spoken. 

Outside the barn, it was full dark. To his relief, not a single cloud blocked his view of the stars. He found a stump to sit on and stared up at the galaxy. “Why?” he asked the sky quietly. He learned long, long ago that he wouldn’t get an answer, but no matter how much time had passed or how far he had fallen, he couldn’t stop the question from falling from his lips. 

With a sigh, he focused on the cosmos. Even now, he loved to look to the stars he had created. He lost himself in memories of forming them and organizing the constellations to distract himself from the kids just on the other side of the wall.

“…Hey! Crowley!” a voice shouted in his ear as a hand grabbed his shoulder.

Crowley let out a loud squawk and fell back off his perch landing in a pile of snow and mud. He glared up at the three children who were covering their mouths with their hands. It did nothing to muffle their laughter. “Don’t sneak up on a guy! It’s rude!”

Small-inn-girl, Isentrud that was it, grinned at him. “We didn’t! We called and called and you didn’t react! So I had to grab you!” That seemed to be it for her as she soon joined him on the ground, laughing too hard to stand. 

Crowley scowled at her as he stood up, cloak and tunic miraculously clean and dry as he did. The other two, whose names he couldn’t remember, were only still standing because they were leaning on each other. Gently, he nudged the girl with his foot. “All right, all right. That’s enough of that now. It wasn’t that funny. Get up!” 

The girl wrapped her arms around his leg and pulled herself into a sitting position, her head against his knee. Tear were coursing down her face as she struggled to breathe.

Crowley bent down, put his hands under her arms, and pulled her to her feet. She still couldn’t walk, so he picked her up instead. She continued to laugh into his neck. “I suppose it’s time for me to rejoin you?”

The other two gasped out their yeses and the group made its way back into the barn. Crowley handed the girl in his arms off to her sister. She seemed to be getting herself under control, but looking at him would send her into a fresh fit of giggles. 

Mayor-boy stared at them, “What happened out there?”

Before either of the other two kids could say anything, Crowley positioned himself between them and covered their mouths with his hands. “Absolutely nothing, Mayor-boy!” He bent down and hissed in their ears, “If you sssay a ssssingle thing, I won’t give you the extra sssslicsssesss of bread I’ve got for you.”

Both turned to look at him in surprise before grinning into his palms and nodding their agreement. Crowley lowered his hands to their shoulders, and they were quick to confirm his story. “Nothing! Nothing happened at all!”

Albrecht looked between them and Isentrud, curled up in her sister’s lap with her breathing now mostly under control. “Riiight…” he drew out before shaking his head. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter. Crowley, you’re right. We’re going to take your offer. Do you have any plans for how to get us out of here? What about supplies?”

“I want to know why you wear those dark glasses over your eyes,” asked one of the other kids, a boy of about ten or so. “Doesn’t it make it hard to see?”

Crowley let go of the two kids and resumed his seat, the kids settling down, too. “I’ve an eye condition. They tend to unsettle people, so it’s just easier to keep them hidden. As for how we get out… Well, what would all of you say to making a spectacle of it? I mean, we could just disappear in the middle of the night. _Or_ we could dance down Main Street in full daylight.”

The kids were already grinning as they looked around at each other. They loved the idea of snubbing their parents publicly.

Scribe, however, frowned. “But won’t they follow us?”

Crowley shook his head. “Not if I don’t want them to, Scribe. Think you guys could get out of going to church service on Sunday? Everyone who wants to leave? We could go while they’re at Mass.”

The kids were clearly getting excited as they eagerly discussed various excuses they could exploit. Several stayed home anyway to watch too active toddlers. Others would pretend at least one child was sick in the household and the siblings could stay home to care for them. Some even figured they would just throw a tantrum and refuse to leave. Might get them a smack with a switch, but they’d be able to stay home.

General brought up the next point. “We’ll need a lot more supplies than we have, too. Everything from livestock to cooking implements to blankets, and so much more.”

Crowley nodded at her. “Of course. If we plan to leave on Sunday, do you think you could spread the word? Steal any and all items that won’t be missed right away? Is there a cave or mine or something nearby where we could stash the horde until we leave?”

After some more debate, it was decided one of the younger boys had the best suggestion. “Northeast of town there’s a hill. One of the sides is so steep it’s basically a cliff. I sometimes take the sheep that way when I’ve got the herd. There’s a hollow there. It’s not huge, but is big enough for a few people to shelter from the rain.”

“Sounds perfect,” said Crowley. “Could you show me tomorrow? Or wait, no. Let’s make it the day after. Thursday.” The boy agreed and they made plans to meet at dawn when he took charge of his family’s flock.

General brought up the next concern. “What about the things we can’t steal? Like livestock? Or furniture?”

“Well, General, you’ll have to help me buy those items tomorrow, won’t you? I suppose first we’ll need to get a cart and horse or donkey. Then we’ll go around town and you can help me figure out what else we need to buy. Money isn’t an issue. You can introduce me to all the other kids, too. Or at least some of them.”

“My name’s Linde, not General. My mother won’t let me just go off for a full day when there’s work to be done in the inn.”

“I’m calling you General because according to Scribe, that’s what you are. He said you’re the one in charge of distributing supplies and stuff. And you’re the one who called this meeting tonight. That’s what a General does. And I bet your mother would let me if I offered to pay her for your time. Especially if I offered a bonus if you got me good deals.”

She cocked her head and nodded thoughtfully. “She would at that. Alright, if you can convince Mama to let me, I’ll go with you.”

“As for livestock, we should leave without any at this point. Leave it for a week or so, and then a few of us can come back and steal what we need.”

The group continued to discuss what they’d need, trying to separate it into what would need to be purchased and what could be stolen. Scribe made careful lists of each category and promised to pass them over once Crowley let him know he could read. 

Once the lists were as complete as they could be, Crowley remembered something he had overheard at the inn. “Hey, question for you kids. The Mayor said something about rat catchers? What’s up with that?”

Mayor-boy was the one to answer. “Well, that’s why we’ve a food shortage. The harvest was actually decent this year, but rats managed to get into the stores. They’ve destroyed practically everything.”

A plan was forming in Crowley’s mind. “Hmmm, would they be willing to pay a rat catcher for getting rid of them?”

Mayor-boy nodded. “They’ve been bringing people in as often as they can find them. Each one might kill a dozen or two, but no one’s been able to really do anything about it.”

“I could get rid of them. Wouldn’t be hard at all. I’d pass any payment onto you guys that way you don’t have to put all your trust in me.”

General looked at him oddly, “Why would you do that? Wouldn’t you want to keep the money to pay for some of the supplies you’ll be buying us?”

Crowley gestured to his clothes. They were the finest fabrics of the area and dyed much darker than most people could afford. “Trust me, money is the least of my concerns. Thought having resources of your own might give you some peace of mind, though. If you don’t want me to do it, I won’t.”

Scribe interjected before anyone else could say anything. “If you can do it, please do. I don’t know how you’ll manage it; we’ve tried everything. But there are some innocent people living here who don’t deserve to starve to death.”

Crowley nodded. “Yeah, don’t much care for the death of innocents. So I’ll take care of the rat problem, collect the fee, and pass the money over to you.”

“Give it to Linde. She’s the best of us with money,” said Scribe.

“You’ve got it. So, tomorrow, General, you and I will get as many supplies as we can. Then, the day after, I’ll pretend to leave town and come back in a disguise. Not sure yet what I’ll look like, but I’ll be wearing these same glasses, so you can recognize me that way. Don’t be surprised if everything else looks different, though. Day after that will be Friday and I’ll take care of your rat problem. And we’ll leave Sunday. Sound like a plan?”

Everyone agreed, and Crowley answered a few more questions until the youngest cut in with a large yawn. That signaled everyone it was time to wrap up and head to bed. Parents would still expect them to be up and ready for chores in the morning. Crowley sent out a small miracle to ensure all of them would wake up well rested despite the late night.

Crowley remembered to slip his three co-conspirators from earlier their promised extra crust of bread. Of course, he was caught by one of the other kids and they looked at the food with such longing Crowley couldn’t help but pass out extra servings to everyone.

That done, the party split into two different groups as everyone made their way home. Two kids, a boy and girl, lived at the first house they came to. After saying their goodbyes, the girl hesitated a moment before throwing her arms around Crowley in a hug. The demon froze. No one had touched him so casually in at least a century. It took him a moment to realize she was mumbling something into his tunic. It took longer to realize they were expressions of gratitude. He awkwardly placed his hands on her back and patted her. “Now, now, stop that. No thanks needed. You just go inside and get some rest, okay?”

She pulled away and smiled at him. “Yes, sir. Sleep well yourself.”

Her brother, a young teenager, was far too old for such displays of affection, but insisted on shaking his hand and offering his own words of thanks.

“Ngk. Stop that! All of you!” He glared around at the rest of the group, somehow making the expression obvious despite the dark and his glasses. “I don’t want to hear another word of thanks, got it?”

The kids, already starting to figure him out, just grinned angelically at him and agreed to keep quiet.

Until the next house, where he got another hug and thank you. Crowley pushed the kid away and stalked down the street. General had to call him back to tell him he was going the wrong way. They were laughing.

Soon enough, it was just him, General, and her sister and they were standing outside the inn. The younger girl grabbed him in a tight hug, her sister joining a moment later. Crowley had no idea how he felt about so many hugs, but managed to return the gesture. 

“C’mon, we should be getting inside. It’s only going to get colder and later if we stay out here any longer,” he said. The touching was getting overwhelming.

Reluctantly, the girls let him go and they made their way inside. It seemed everyone else had already left and gone to bed for the night; no one was in the dining area and their parents were nowhere to be seen. The girls wished him a good night as they entered their room and he entered his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is fully completed, just working on edits. It's approximately 23k words (how the hell did a simple fairy-tale grow to such a monster?) and I'll hopefully get it up in its entirety over the next week or two.
> 
> It's the first story I've managed to finish and post in a very long time, so concrit is very much welcome (though be nice about it). I'm mostly planning on using the kid's nicknames in the prose as I'm trying to keep this in Crowley's POV and he doesn't bother with names. Also, there's quite a few OCs (though I'm trying to keep it limited) so I thought nicknames might be easier to remember. Let me know if you'd prefer names. Don't worry too much about remembering who everyone is, I'll be reintroducing them if they've been gone from the story for more than a scene. If anyone wants, I can include a list of who's who in the notes.
> 
> I haven't seen anyone else do this premise, but it seems super obvious to me so I know I'm not the only one who's come up with it. It was partially inspired by the song "Pied Piper" by the lovely Heather Dale (and I totally stole one of her lyrics) [listen to it here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1bgOzSTYxhI). 
> 
> And a shout out to the amazing Al who motivated me to actually finish this work ([Find them here](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WanderingAlice/pseuds/WanderingAlice) if you like angst, you have to check out their work).
> 
> Assume any anachronisms are intentional, especially if they come from Crowley. Canon obviously didn't care, so I decided I wanted to keep up the tradition.
> 
> Comments and Kudos will be much appreciated (though no pressure, I'll finish posting either way).


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley meets more of the town kids and behaves in a very un-demonic manner. Who ever heard of a demon healing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, you guys are amazing. I wasn't expecting any response to this (I mean, a Good Omens fic with Crowley and without Aziraphale? I didn't try and kid myself). But I had two comments in the first hour it was posted! And kudos! And I didn't post until midnight! You guys are beyond fantastic.
> 
> Trigger Warning: aftermath of physical child abuse

The next day at dawn, Crowley made his way downstairs to the kitchen and found General’s mother already awake and kneading bread.

“Good morning to you, sir,” she said when she saw him.

“Morning,” returned Crowley, though the friendly greeting tasted like acid in his mouth. He did _not_ like being pleasant to people like her. “I noticed yesterday that you have two daughters. Might I borrow the older one for the day? You see, I’m on my way to my sister’s place. Her husband died few weeks ago and left her and their kids with nothing but debts they can’t pay. I promised I’d go over and help her out. I’ll need to get a bunch of supplies and thought your daughter might be willing to show me around town. I’d pay something for her time, of course. May toss a bit extra on top if she manages to save me some coin.”

Her eyes lit up and Crowley could taste the surge of greed. “ _Of course_ you can have Herlinde for the day! She knows all the best merchants and will definitely get you the best prices. I’ll fetch her right away!” She barely waited for his reply before rushing out of the kitchen, shouting for her daughter.

When they returned a few minutes later, General’s mother was gripping her upper arm hard and hissing instructions in her ear. His eyes narrowed behind his glasses. He’d pay the woman as promised, but perhaps he could attach a curse to the money. Beelzebub always _did_ say he needed to take a more active role in his evildoings. 

Hiding his anger, Crowley thanked the woman for her assistance and purchased some breakfast. The price was highway robbery, but he paid without comment. Once they left, he handed the food over to General.

“That’s your breakfast,” she said, refusing to reach for it.

“Did you get anything to eat this morning?” he asked, raising an eyebrow above his glasses and looking at her pointedly. 

She looked straight ahead and kept walking, refusing to answer.

“That’s what I thought. Look, I’m going to keep you busy running around town. You’ll need food if you want to have enough energy to get through the day. I bought this for you since I’ve already eaten enough for the time being. Don’t let pride get in the way of your health.”

She turned to look at him. “You’re sure you’ve eaten enough?”

“Absolutely.”

She hesitated a moment more before taking the offering and eating as they walked. “We’re going to get the donkey first. The seller, Mr. Richolf, has three kids—two boys and a girl—who’ll come with us and this way you can meet them. I’ll talk to them while you talk business. The oldest boy, Conrad, doesn’t trust anyone so you’ll want to try and win him over if you can. He’ll come either way, but things’ll go a lot better if he likes you. They live just outside of town.”

“Got it. Win over the paranoid one. I’ll see what I can do.”

General continued to tell him about the shops she planned to take him to and who he’d be meeting over the course of the day. Around them, spaces between houses grew until they were walking through fields. Ahead sat a two-story house with what looked like two fenced in pastures and a barn. This Richolf must be running quite the successful business.

When they reached the house, General knocked on the door. A boy, a year or two younger than her, opened it. “Linde? How’d you know I wanted to see you? Anselm hasn’t even left yet.” The kid was scared, the taste flooding Crowley’s mouth. “And who’re you?” The last bit was directed at Crowley. 

General cocked her head. “I had no idea you wanted to see me. I’ve the best news, though, and needed to see you. This is Crowley. He’s our guest and is looking to buy a donkey. Is your father around? I’ll fill you and the others in while they’re doing business.”

Conrad stared at the demon. “Yeah, I’ll get Father. Could you go upstairs? Gerke is… ill.” 

General looked at him sharply. “What happened?”

He only shook his head. “You’ll understand when you see her. Heard the mayor came back last night. I suppose your news has to do with that?”

“He did, but that’s actually the bad news. Crowley here has to do with the good news.”

Crowley grinned and waved at the boy.

Conrad looked at him skeptically. “What good can a stranger do? Never mind, I’ll get Father. Please look in on Gerke? She’ll be happy to see you.

“Yes, of course,” said General, clearly more concerned by the minute. With a last glance at Crowley she rushed inside and disappeared up a set of stairs.

Crowley remained by the door as the boy left to get his father. When the two came back, Crowley looked relaxed and unconcerned. “Morning. Heard you were the best donkey-breeder in town.”

The flattery caused the man to puff out his chest. “That I am. Richolf, at your service. What’s your name? How many are you looking to buy?”

“I’m Crowley. And just one at the moment.”

His son, job done, rushed upstairs after General without another word. Crowley watched him from the corner of his eye. Something had the kid rattled, and the demon hoped it was something he could fix.

Richolf paid his son no mind as he led Crowley back outside. “Well you’ve come to the right place. Let’s go see the herds and you can choose which beast you want. What do you need a donkey for?”

“Hauling loads, mostly. I need to take supplies to my recently widowed sister. She’s been struggling since her husband died a few weeks ago.”

“I’ve got quite a few that’ll serve you well, then. Here are our herds.”

The pasture itself was large with a lean-to structure for the animals to shelter under. Most of the area was covered in snow except where it’d been stomped into mud. The two climbed over the fence rather than mess with the gate which had frozen shut.

Most of the animals were under cover, but a few had wandered outside. When they saw Crowley they brayed in fear and tried to get away. Crowley blessed himself six ways from Sunday. He should have _known_ better, but it was cold and he forgot. Animals _never_ liked demons.

The breeder cursed and tried to calm down the panicking animals all the while insisting that this was extremely unusual behavior for them. 

Crowley nodded, but didn’t comment. Instead he closed his eyes and focused inward. He pushed down the Hellfire that made up his center until it was the tiniest of embers. Instantly he started shivering as the cold became even more pronounced. He ground his teeth and ignored it. Looking deeper, he found the spark of his old power, the one he had been given by Her back when he was created. Not even Falling could put it out entirely. He was made to be a creator. He shaped stars and planets. When they started making life, he created plants. He fanned that spark to life, coaxing it larger until it filled his being. Instantly, the animals quieted, and many even moved forward to meet him.

“No worries,” Crowley said, once he was able to focus on his surroundings again. “I’m sure they were just spooked by something.” It took every ounce of will power to keep his teeth from chattering. He _hated_ the cold.

Richolf was gripping a lead around a donkey’s neck hard, though the animal was now standing calmly. Slowly, the man loosened his grip. Once the hold was loose enough, the animal trotted towards Crowley. The demon, now surrounded by animals, held out his hands and patted them, examining each one as he did. 

After looking over several, he saw the perfect beast—a young male, probably four or five years old, full-grown, and strong. Crowley knew that he’d be able to travel for hours once he got going, no demonic miracles necessary. “I’ll take this one; how much for him?”

“Ah, that one’s not for sale, I’m afraid. I’m keeping him as a breeder.”

Crowley grinned and the bartering began. Once the man realized he was serious, he sighed. “Let’s discuss price inside where it’s warm, then.” He fixed a lead onto the animal and they led him out of the pasture. This time they did have to fight with the frozen gate. After a short struggle, and a touch of supernatural power, they got it open. They tied the donkey to a post near the barn.

Richolf brought him inside by the back entrance, directly into the kitchen. The fire was burning, and Crowley moved as close to it as he could without looking strange. 

The man was looking around and mumbling to himself. “Where are those lazy kids?” With a frustrated sigh, he shouted, “Boys!”

Footsteps echoed from upstairs and two boys ran into the room. The older one was Conrad, who had greeted them at the door. The younger must have been his brother. His eyes were red as if he’d been crying, and dark circles under them showed he hadn’t gotten much sleep. Both were watching Crowley closely; General must’ve spoken to them.

“There you are! Still fretting over your sister? Forget her. She’ll be fine. I need you down here. Conrad, get a table set up before the fire in the main room for Crowley and I to talk business. Anselm, heat us up something to drink. Use the good wine.”

“Yes, sir,” said the boys as they rushed off to do as asked.

Richolf led his customer back to the main room where Crowley had first entered the house. It was large, with a fireplace only just smaller than the one in the kitchen. Conrad was dragging a small table in front of the fire. It was far too heavy for a kid only just into his teen years and Crowley’s low estimation of the boy’s father sunk further. He went to help the boy.

The kid was clearly confused when the demon grabbed the other end of the table. “Let me,” he said.

Richolf tried to brush it off, “Now, now, the boy can handle it! No need for you to get involved. You’re my valued guest, after all.”

Crowley rolled his eyes behind his glasses. “I’ve got two working hands. I’d feel guilty letting the boy do all the work. Don’t worry about it.”

The man continued to protest, but Crowley ignored him as he and the boy set the table down and grabbed two chairs from along the wall. As soon as everything was in place, Crowley lounged in the chair and looked at his host with a raised eyebrow. “Well, ready to talk business?”

“Always.” He sat down across the demon and they began negotiations.

Before they got far, the younger boy came in with two steaming mugs. Crowley took his gladly and sipped the heated wine. It actually was good, and he finished it quickly as they argued pricing. Soon enough they came to an agreement that included a cart, tack, and feed as well. Crowley passed over the coins, attaching a curse that’d cause the breeder to lose triple the sum over the next month. 

Richolf called again for his sons and ordered them to help Crowley get his purchases organized.

Conrad, the older boy, nodded stiffly at the orders, and his brother was gripping his hand tightly. Crowley followed the two outside, wondering what General had told them and if he could figure out what was going on with this sister of theirs. 

The instant they were outside, Conrad turned to him, glaring. “Why should we trust you? No one cares about us.” His younger brother winced and tried to pull his hand away; apparently the grip had gotten painful.

Crowley shrugged. “Unfortunately, I can’t really do much to prove I’m trustworthy. Especially not in just three days. But I’ll ask you what I asked them last night – what other choice do you have? I’m an uncertainty. I say I’ll take you to safety and keep you alive through at least the winter and leave you with the means to take care of yourselves after that. You can choose to believe me or not. If you do stay, what do you face? You’ve a choice between war, slavery, and starvation. If you come with me and I betray you, are you really in any worse of a state than if you stay?”

The boy bit his lip and looked down. Taking a deep breath, he looked up again. “Take Anselm with you. I have to stay. If I find out you’ve done anything to hurt him, though, I’ll track you down all over the world until I can kill you.”

Anselm, his brother, protested immediately. “What? No! I’m not leaving you and Gerke, Conrad! You can’t make me!”

“You have to!” Conrad shouted back. “He’s right! If you stay here, you’re going to die! I don’t trust him. I don’t believe he’s doing anything out of the goodness of his heart. I fully expect him to turn around and do something awful. But if you stay? You’ve no chance at all.”

“I don’t care! I still won’t leave you!” 

Crowley coughed. “Excuse me, but I think I’m missing something here. You, Skeptic—” he pointed at the older one— “you don’t like me. Fine, good. I’m used to that. But I’m planning on taking all three of you. I’m planning on taking every kid in this town who wants to go. So why would I leave you behind?”

“Skeptic? What’s that? No, never mind, not important. Our sister, Gerke, she’s been hurt. She won’t be better by Sunday and I won’t leave her here by herself. If I do… Well, Father won’t bother attending an invalid.”

“Skeptic means you won’t believe something without proof; it’s a good thing. And I know some doctoring. How about, instead of thinking there’s no hope, you let me look at her. Maybe I’ll be able to get her well enough to come with us.”

The Skeptic shook his head. “That’s not possible. She’s got broken bones. No matter how good a doctor you are, you can’t heal those in just three days.” 

Anselm was crying again and looking at the ground. “I don’t want to leave the two of you, either. Don’t make me go without you.”

Crowley looked between them. “Was you father there when she broke those bones?”

Skeptic flinched but didn’t respond. Anselm hesitated a moment before nodding yes. 

“Right. Look, lets get the supplies I bought organized, then bring me to see your sister. At the very least I should be able to do something for her pain. If her condition turns out to not be as bad as it looks and she’s better by Sunday, will all three of you come?”

Skeptic scoffed. “Didn’t you hear me? She’s got broken bones. Her accident was yesterday. There’s no way she’ll be fine to go.”

“But if she is, will you come?” 

“If, by some miracle, she’s able to walk come Sunday we’ll all be there. But I’m telling you it’s not possible.”

“I’ve lots of experience with ‘not possible.’ It usually just means someone wasn’t clever enough to figure it out. Will you let me look at her? Way I see it, even if she can’t come, she’d probably want to meet the person who’d be taking her brother away from this hell-hole.”

Skeptic hesitated, but eventually nodded. “Yeah, she would want to meet you at that. Come on, lets get your purchases squared away and we’ll bring you to her.”

The cart and other supplies were stored in the barn bordering the pastures. It didn’t take long to get everything organized. The cart was rather small, it didn’t even have a bench for a driver, so he’d have to lead the donkey by walking next to it. Still, Crowley knew it’d be big enough. It wouldn’t even think of not being able to fit something they needed. Or of getting too heavy for the donkey to pull it along.

It was the work of only a minute to get the donkey hitched and they brought him to the front of the house. 

“Can we go back to Gerke now?” asked Anselm.

Crowley nodded. “Yes, I think we’d better. I’d like to see this girl.” Her condition would determine what type of curses he left scattered around for her father. Beelzebub would quite enjoy this report. 

Skeptic scuffed his boot on the ground. “Father might not let you see her. I doubt he’d want you going upstairs.”

Crowley shrugged. “I don’t much care what he does or doesn’t want. He won’t notice us, though. If I don’t want to be seen, I won’t be.”

“You know, acting like a witch isn’t any way to get me to trust you,” said Skeptic.

Crowley shrugged. “That sounds like a you problem. C’mon, lets go.” Without another word, he opened the door. Richolf, their father, was still sitting by the fire. True to Crowley’s word, he didn’t even look up when the crew walked through the door and up the stairs.

The girl was lying on a bed in a room clearly shared by the three kids. General was sitting by her side running her hands through her hair and telling a story. When she looked up at the group, Crowley saw the tears in her eyes and tasted her grief. Even that was nearly over-powered by the pain emanating from the injured girl. 

He knelt by her side, her brothers flanking him. Skeptic was clearly uncomfortable with his presence but didn’t know what else to do. He was far too young to have to deal with this. All of them were. “I believe I heard your name is Gerke?” he asked.

She had pale blue eyes that reminded him of a certain angel. She nodded, and even that small movement made her cry. He mentally uttered every Latin swear he could think of and focused on keeping his tongue human and fangs hidden.

“Has General told you who I am?”

General sniffed. “He means me. I don’t think he likes to use names. And yeah, I’ve told her about you.”

Crowley rested his hand over Gerke’s and slowly sank his power into her body, checking on the damage. “I can help you feel better. It might hurt a bit more for an instant, but I promise you’ll be better after.”

Gerke swallowed, winced, and spoke in a halting whisper. “I think… I’m dying. N-nothing you can do.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize I was talking to the expert. Where’d you study medicine, Doctor?” She had several broken ribs, one of which was dangerously close to puncturing a lung. 

She smiled slightly. “Mmm not a doctor.”

“Then let me decide if you’re likely to die. Alright? And I think you’re going to live. I’ll give you something for the pain, but this won’t be a comfortable experience for you. You’ve got a few broken ribs and extensive bruising. A concussion, too, if I’m not mistaken. He really did a number on you, didn’t he?” Crowley hated miracling medicines; they never worked as well as when he made them by hand. But needs must. He pulled forth a bottle and spoon and poured out a dose. “Here, I’ll help you lift your head, but I need you to swallow this, all right?”

She winced by nodded. General shuffled out of the way, and Crowley gently reached under Gerke’s head and lifted it up just enough so she’d be able to swallow the medicine. 

“Now, you might get a spike of pain from this, and I’m sorry about that. But I promise you’ll feel better when I’m done.” He waited for her to nod before reaching back into his power. He pulled exclusively from his old creator powers, trying to get as little taint from his Hellfire as possible. This was always tricky. Healing was so much harder since his fall; the fire always tried to corrupt it. And it was so much more painful for his patients. He sunk his awareness into her broken bones and forced power into them, fusing them back together. She screamed. Distantly, Crowley was aware of hands grasping his upper arm and trying to pull him away. He didn’t move an inch. The bones reknit and Crowley moved his focus to the fractures and sprains he found. He repaired blood vessels and chased away inflammation. Then he turned his attention to her concussion. And finally he was done. He let go of her hand and closed his eyes for a moment, breathing heavily.

Slowly, awareness of the room around him returned. He heard yelling, then he heard words. Sounded like he scared her brothers when she started screaming. He looked up over his shoulder. Skeptic was gripping his arm tightly trying to pull him away from his sister. “Leave her alone!”

“I’m done. And before you kick me out, why don’t you ask her how she feels?”

“What?” The hands on his arms loosened their grip slightly.

Crowley turned back to his patient. “Can you breathe easier, Doctor?”

Gerke was looking at him in wonder. At his question, she took a deep breath and smiled. “It doesn’t hurt! What did you do? How? Are you magic?”

“I’m afraid that’s a bit of a secret. Let me help you sit up. Think you could eat something? Your body’s just been through an ordeal. It’ll need some fuel to replenish.” 

With his help, she moved until she was sitting up, her back against the wall. “I think I could eat a horse!” she exclaimed, but then her face fell. “Only, there’s not enough food.”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t have asked, Doctor, if I couldn’t provide.” He pulled out some oatcakes and gave her three. Her brothers each got one. “Now, you’ll still be tender for a day or two. And the bones will be fragile. They could re-break, so try and keep out of trouble. Your father won’t think of you before Sunday, so he won’t bother you.”

Skeptic cut in. “How? What?” He couldn’t seem to finish a thought.

Crowley smirked. “So now that it looks like your sister will be well enough to leave this Sunday, can I count on all three of you to come with me?”

Skeptic finally let go of Crowley’s arm, but just looked back and forth between the demon and his sister, completely speechless. 

Anselm slowly broke into a huge grin. “Yes! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” He threw his arms around Crowley, surprising the demon so much they fell to a heap on the floor. General broke out laughing so hard she was crying. 

“Woah, kid, what are you? A python?” Crowley asked the boy on top of him.

“What’s a python?”

“A big snake. It wraps itself around its victims and squeezes them to death. Mind letting me up, Python?”

Python shook his head, burying his face in Crowley’s chest. “Nope, not letting go.”

At this point, even Skeptic couldn’t keep a straight face and started laughing, joining everyone else on the floor.

Once everyone was under control again, Crowley sat back and looked them over. “All right, General and I have to get moving. I’ll come back tonight sometime after midnight. Doctor, I’ll get some better medicines for you. Ones that’ll make sure your bones heal strong and help with any remaining soreness. Be sure you take it easy for the next few days until it’s time to go, got it?”

“You don’t have to call me Doctor, you know,” said the little Doctor.

Crowley grinned. “I absolutely do. You’re Doctor and your brothers are Skeptic and Python.”

General laughed. “See, he hates names.”

Crowley ignored her. “Now, get some rest. I’m sure you’re exhausted.” 

As if on cue she yawned. General and Crowley said their goodbyes and left. The kids’ father was completely oblivious to what had gone on upstairs and didn’t notice them as they left.

General and Crowley led their new donkey and cart back into town. “General, do you know if anyone else is too injured or sick to leave? I’ll have to help them, too.”

“I don’t know off the top of my head. I know of a few people who had bad colds, but I haven’t heard if they’ve gotten better or worse. We’ll spread the word, though. Everyone’ll know by the end of the day. “

“Good. Now, where are we going to next?”

General led him to a fabric shop. The children there didn’t give Crowley hugs, but did thank him warmly after she pulled them aside and explained the plans. The girl even gave him a pressed flower. The visit was much shorter, and soon they were on their way with quite a few bolts of fabric bundled into the back of the cart. General also had him buy two frame looms. 

They then went next door to the haberdasher’s for thread and buttons and other sewing supplies. General said they’d steal what they could of those, but they’d go through them fast. Impossible to have too many sewing supplies, she insisted. Crowley figured she knew best and passed over the money without complaint.

At each place they stopped, Crowley met more kids. He did his best to prove his intentions and asked after any injuries or sicknesses. Colds and flus were common, but most were mild. He spread the word that he would be in the main square the next day in a disguise and that everyone who needed it should come to him for medicines. A few cases were more severe, and he promised a few more midnight visits. Somewhere in the middle, he ordered lunch for General who looked at him sideways when he didn’t get something for himself but didn’t comment.

The place that fascinated Crowley the most was the blacksmith’s smithy. When they entered, the smith was nowhere to be seen and his son manned the forge. He was in the middle of a project and, while he waved at the visitors, he couldn’t to stop right away. He gestured to a couple chairs sitting by the door. General gladly sat down, but Crowley took a few steps forward to watch.

He rarely brought up his creator side, as sensing it made other demons angry, so he’d forgotten the itch it would bring. He wanted to shape something. To create. It was such a strong urge and watching the boy in front of him who must have been around General’s age only made it stronger. He clasped his hands tightly behind his back to keep from trying to touch the boy’s project. Iron and steel weren’t even near his favorite substances to work with. That was reserved for star stuff, of course. But on earth, he preferred the more finicky materials – glass and precious metals and even clay. Still, when he was in a mood like this, even iron was irresistibly attractive. His nails lengthened slightly into claws and he dug them into his palms to keep from touching anything.

It had been a long time, well over a hundred years, since he last shaped metal. Human smiths, especially the blacksmiths, generally took one look at him and laughed if he asked to use their forge. His corporation was far too skinny for the work. 

Soon enough, the boy finished the shovel head he was working. He grabbed a cloth draped around his neck and wiped sweat off his face and soot off his hands as he turned to face his visitors. 

“Afternoon, how can I help you?” he asked Crowley as he shot a grin to General. 

Crowley shrugged. “No idea; talk to General. Mind if I poke around? I know a thing or two about smithing and you’ve got a good set up here.” Without waiting for a response, he was examining the tools and the forge itself. He ran his fingers over the stone, letting the warmth fill him. Behind him, he could hear the boy asking General what was going on. General asked where his father was and only started her explanations once he assured her he’d be gone for the rest of the afternoon.

Crowley found the raw ore and ran his hands over the metals. He couldn’t help but envision the things he could make with each piece – an intricate fence post, a knife, an oven door. But he took a deep breath and lowered his hands back to his side. He couldn’t get distracted. Once he got these kids out, they’d need basically everything. He’d help them build houses and shelters. He’d get fields plowed and sowed and an herb garden started. That would help scratch the itch. They might even build a forge of their own. But it _wasn’t_ an option right now.

With a last longing look, he turned back to the kids. “Sorry about that. It’s been a long time since I’ve been in a forge. Got a bit nostalgic. What’s your name? I don’t remember if General told me or not.”

“No offence, Mister, but you don’t look like you could even hold some of the hammers, let alone do work as a blacksmith. I’m Wolveram. Call me Wolf. If even half of what Linde tells me is true, I’m honored to meet you.” He held out his hand and Crowley shook it.

“Ah, but looks can be deceiving, Master Wolf.”

He snorted. “I’m no master, but I’ll take your word for it. If I sell you everything Linde and I think we might need, it’ll cost quite a bit. Papa will expect me to charge full price. Probably more since you’re from out of town.”

Crowley waved his hand. “Money’s not a problem. Give me the total and help us load it onto the cart and you won’t hear a peep of complaint from me.”

Wolf clearly wasn’t sure if he believed him but didn’t say another word about it. Instead, he just started filling buckets with nails and pulling down tools and other implements that he and General must’ve discussed. It didn’t take long for the three of them to have everything loaded onto the cart. 

General was concerned about how much weight they were adding to the cart, but Crowley assured her it was no problem. He walked the donkey and cart a few feet to show her it was fine, and she dropped her concerns.

After the smith, they only had one last stop. Crowley insisted on visiting the local herbalist to see what she might have. He needed supplies to make the medicines he’d been promising. He also wanted to see if she had any seeds he could buy to plant come spring so the kids could have a medicinal garden.

The herbalist lived in a small, one-room cottage on the edge of town. Even though it was winter and snow covered the ground, Crowley could tell her garden was well-tended.

Over her door hung a horseshoe, and Crowley mentally blessed. It would hurt, walking under that. The woman who answered the door at General’s knock was in her young thirties. Her blonde hair hung loose and her dress was well-worn. “Afternoon, what can I do for you?”

“I’m Crowley, passing through town. I was hoping to buy some medicinal herbs from you. And possibly some seeds.”

She smiled. “Pleasure to meet you, Crowley. I’m Berchte and I can certainly help with that. Most of what I have is dried right now, of course.” 

Crowley nodded. He didn’t glance up, but his teeth elongated into fangs and he bit into his cheek. The sting of the ward from the horseshoe felt almost like walking through a barrier of consecrated ground, but it didn’t hurt quite as much as expected and he managed to cross the threshold without visibly reacting. He shrunk his fangs back to human-standard, healing the wound in his mouth as he did.

Once inside, he looked around with interest. Bunches of dried plants hung from the rafters. Along one wall were several shelves with a collection of glass and clay bottles, all carefully labeled, and filled with various oils and extracts. Underneath was a set of small drawers also labeled. 

“Now, what exactly are you looking for?”

Crowley shrugged as he looked around at her wares. “Bit of everything, honestly. Willowbark for sure. Lungwort and thistle. Chamomile.” He glanced at his companion. “General, you can sit by the fire and warm up. We’ll probably be here for a while.”

She didn’t wait to be told twice and sat on the floor as close to the flames as she dared.

“General?” asked the herbalist.

“Just a joke between the two of us. She’s been my guide today, so we’ve gotten to know each other well. Oh, and if you have any seeds for planting, I’d be interested in buy some of those, as well.”

“I can definitely help with that.”

Her stock was very complete, though Crowley occasionally found himself asking for something she didn’t recognize only to remember it didn’t grow this far north or could only be found on another continent. Other times he asked for something she was convinced had no medicinal benefits, which lead to lively debates about uses and preparations. By the time they were ready to leave it was late, but he was quite happy with his stash. He had several bottles of extracts and tinctures and dozens of bunches of herbs. He was more than satisfied with his new collection of seeds, too. 

General was dozing before the fire and Crowley let her sleep while they loaded everything onto the cart, even if it meant he had to walk under the horseshoe a few more times. It really wasn’t as bad as it had been the last time he’d entered a warded house. When finished, he woke her with a gentle hand on her shoulder. 

“Come on, now. Time for us to be heading back, General.”

“Hmm?” she asked, blinking with unfocused eyes.

Crowley’s expression softened and he slid one arm under her knees and the other under her back and picked her up. He said his goodbyes to Berchte and settled General on the back of the cart. Their supplies had arranged themselves so the fabrics were all on top, giving her a soft bed. 

They made it about half of the way to the inn before General woke enough to jump off the back of the cart and walk next to the demon. “You could’ve forced me to walk, you know.”

Crowley shrugged. “Sure, I could’ve. But it was just as easy to let you rest.”

“You’re weird.”

Crowley laughed at that. “More than you know.”

They came to the inn shortly after that, and General showed Crowley where he could stable their donkey. She set out some feed for the animal and he set the cart next to the stable. 

“You shouldn’t just leave that there. Someone will steal our stuff.”

“No one touches anything of mine; it’ll be fine,” said Crowley.

“You might be important somewhere else, only have to look at your clothes to see that, but no one here will care. Here you’re just a stranger. No one’ll hesitate to rob you blind.”

“I’ll prove it to you. Go back in the barn and wait for a count of twenty then come out. You’ll see what I mean.”

She rolled her eyes but did as bid. When she came back out, she looked around confused. “Where is the cart? You didn’t have time to move it.”

“I didn’t move it; it’s right there. See?” He took her hand and placed it on the cart.

She shook her head in confusion. “It is. And it was there the whole time. But I didn’t notice it. Even though I was looking at it. Are you a fairy or witch or something? First with Gerke and now this?”

That caused Crowley to laugh so hard he couldn’t stand straight. “No, no, nothing like that. I’m just me.”

“And who is ‘just you’?”

Crowley waved a hand, still chuckling. “Doesn’t matter. Let’s go inside. I’ll tell your mother you were a great help and pass her more coins than she deserves. I’ll have her send dinner to my room and you and your sister can join me.” He grabbed his purchases from the herbalist off the cart. “And then I’ll work on making medicines before going to visit everyone who needs extra care.”

“When will you _sleep_?” 

Crowley shrugged. He would like to sleep, but he hardly slept every night. “Once I know you all are safe.”

He entered the inn before she could respond. Her mother was in the kitchen preparing something on the counter and looked up when they came in.

“Ah, you’re back! How was Linde? Did she give you any trouble?”

“Not at all. She was extremely helpful.” He held out some coins for her and the woman wiped her hands on her apron and grabbed them greedily. Crowley cursed them just as he had for the donkey breeder earlier that morning. Only a few of the shopkeepers got the cursed coins; he reserved them for the ones who were extra cruel. 

She counted them out carefully before nodding, satisfied. “Good, I’m glad. Sometimes she likes to test her boundaries and thinks she more grown up than she actually is.”

Crowley cocked his head. “No, she was perfectly helpful. We didn’t have a single issue. But it’s been a long day, so I was going to head up. I had Gen- er, _Linde_ rushing about, so she’ll probably need an early night as well. Could I order dinner to be sent to my room?” He held out a few more coins.

“Of course! I’ll have Linde or her sister bring it up shortly.”

Crowley nodded and left the kitchen for his rooms. There, he pulled out his herbs and arranged them on the small table. First things first, he’d need a lot of a fever reducer. Willowbark wasn’t really good for kids. Or anyone under twenty, but if he added a bit of power to the preparation, it would be safe enough. 

He lit a fire in the hearth and started boiling water. Preparing everything by hand helped sooth the itch to create that had been making him restless. 

Before too long, he heard a knock on his door and General and her sister, what was the girl’s name again?, entered.

“What’s that you’re doing?” asked Small-Inn-Girl.

“He’s making medicines, Isentrud. We’ve got your dinner, Crowley.”

Isentrud, that was her name. Crowley gestured to the bed. “Feel free to sit. And I ordered the food for you two. Eat up.”

“But don’t you need to eat?” asked Isentrud.

General snorted. “He’s not human. I don’t think he eats at all. Or sleeps.”

“Oi! I sleep! I quite like sleeping, me! I’ve slept a full decade before!”

General just blinked at him before turning to her sister. “See, not human. And notice he didn’t say anything about eating. _And_ he’s got magic. I’ve seen it.” She grabbed an oatcake from the plate and started munching on it. Her sister hesitated a moment more but started on the stew when Crowley turned back to his work with a huff.

“So, what’s this place you’re taking us to like?” asked Small-Inn-Girl between bites.

Crowley smiled. “You know how about two days’ travel south there’s some mountains? Well, on one of those mountains there’s this valley.” He described the stream that ran along one end of a large field and the forests that surrounded it. Near the valley, he described the network of caves that ran deep into the mountain where veins of granite and quartz decorated the walls and stalactites clung to the ceilings. They could shelter safely in the caves and protect themselves during the winter. As soon as the snow started melting, they could plow the ground to plant fields. He talked about the wildflowers that covered the area all spring and summer. The girls hung eagerly on his every word. 

Before anyone was ready, the food was finished and the girls knew they couldn’t linger any longer or their parents would get suspicious. Crowley promised them they’d see the place in person soon enough. They both hugged him on their way out, taking the empty dishes with them as they did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the off-hand comment about willowbark. If you don't know, Aspirin is derived from willowbark. And aspirin cannot be given to kids. Or teenagers. Why? If someone is recovering from a viral infection (whether or not they had symptoms), the aspirin will actually interact with the viral particles and it can result in a serious, life-threatening condition called Reye's Syndrome. Now-a-days, a hospital visit is all but guaranteed. Back then it was a death sentence. So, you have to be really careful about giving certain meds to kids/teens. Aspirin and Salicylate are functionally the same thing and both have this reaction. Products like pepto bismol, excedrin, and certain muscle rubs contain them. Be careful! (Sorry for the random science lesson, but I couldn't not talk about it.)
> 
> Check me out on [tumblr](https://wolfjackle.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Please let me know what you think of the chapter - comment or kudos is much appreciated!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley makes a few midnight visits before leaving and returning as the Piper when he makes a deal with the town mayor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the comments and kudos! You have no idea how much they mean to me.
> 
> I'm going with the canon that angels and demons can't teleport or transport themselves while on Earth, so Crowley has to find a way around this. 
> 
> This chapter contains two of my favorite exchanges in the entire work. Hope you enjoy!

The muffled bells of the church rang the midnight hour as Crowley finished packaging up his medicines. The inn was quiet as he slipped outside. They had another cloudless night and the moon shone bright above him, reflecting off white walls and snow piles. 

He approached the back door of the first home he had to visit and knocked. A quick miracle ensured no one over sixteen would hear the sound. Not long after, a boy opened the door. He couldn’t have been ten years old with black hair and freckled skin.

“Are you Crowley?” he asked. 

“Sure am. I was told a girl here is sick?” 

The boy grabbed his hand and dragged him inside. “I’m Otto. It’s my sister, Cilie, who’s sick. Can you really help her? She won’t stop coughing and her temperature won’t come down. Mama tried to give her some dinner and she just threw it up again.” 

Crowley squeezed his hand to assure him. “I can help her. Has she had anything to drink?”

The boy shook his head. “She won’t drink. Here, this’s our room.”

Crowley knelt beside the bed. His patient was soaked in sweat and restless with fever. He brushed a hand across her forehead and she cried out, sitting up, though her eyes were still unfocused. A wave of his hand meant that no one outside this room would hear them or think to check on her. “Cilie, can you hear me?” he asked.

Coughs wracked the girl’s thin frame as tears fell down her eyes. Crowley had no idea if she was trying to say something or not. He brushed the hair from her face and rubbed a hand up and down her back as he sunk his power into her body. “Shhh, you’ll be alright. I promise.” He felt the fluid in her lungs. Pneumonia, then. He could help with that, though it’d be uncomfortable. He reached into his satchel and pulled out a packet of herbs. He kept one hand on Cilie’s back to support her and waved her brother over. “Can you do something for me?”

“Of course, what did you need?”

He passed over the packet of herbs. “I need a bucket of cold water and some rags. And I need you to boil some water and pour it into a cup over a quarter of the contents of this package.”

The boy agreed readily and left to do as asked.

Crowley turned back to his patient. He used his power to ease her coughing and she gasped for air. He then brought her fever down a few degrees.

She looked up at him and for the first time her eyes seemed to focus. “Am I dying?”

“Not if I can help it.”

“But why else would God send an angel to me in the middle of the night?”

Crowley closed his eyes. Fever dreams always made people see what wasn’t there. “I’m not an angel and God didn’t send me. I’m here to make you better. You’ll live for many years yet, I expect.” 

She didn’t look like she believed him, but she didn’t argue either. That might have been because she was still catching her breath, but Crowley considered it a win anyway.

“Now, this next bit will be uncomfortable for you. Probably painful. Proof I’m not an angel; if I was one I could help you without hurting you. But your lungs are filled with fluid. So I’ll need you to cough that up. Once you’ve done that, though, you’ll feel much better. I promise. Do you understand.”

“You’re wrong, you know. You _are_ an angel. I can see your wings.”

Crowley’s eyes widened in alarm and he looked over his shoulder. But his wings were carefully tucked out of this plane and completely invisible. He looked back at her; must be a hold-over from her fever dreams. “I don’t know what you think you see, Seer, but there’s nothing there. Now, take a deep breath because this next part will be awful.” He pulled a towel up out of the air and handed it to her. “Cough into this when you feel the need to. Ready?”

She took the towel and nodded.

Crowley forced her muscles to contract and shook the fluid in her lungs loose. Seer coughed so hard the bed shook. Crowley grit his teeth and pushed harder. The fluid moved slowly, clinging to her tissues, but he forced it out. Tears poured down the girl’s face and the coughs were relentless. The towel was soon soaked through. It was almost over. Crowley gave one last push, the girl coughed up one more burst of phlegm, and finally it was over.

Crowley took the towel away from her and banished it from existence. She collapsed forward, resting her head on her knees as she took large, gasping breaths. He brushed his and across her forehead; she still had a fever, but that should go down quickly now without any intervention.

“I can breathe again. I haven’t been able to breathe this easily since Christmas,” her voice was hoarse.

“Think you can sit up for me, Seer?”

Her hands and arms were shaking too much for her to push up on her own, but Crowley helped her and propped her up with pillows and blankets. As he was doing that, her brother came back with the requested objects.

Crowley took the cup and heated it up a tad bit more before holding it to his patient’s lips. “Try and drink some of this. It’ll help with your fever and soothe your throat.”

He managed to get half the drink into her before she needed a break. Her brother was begging for updates, and Crowley told him what had happened while he soaked rags in the cold water and laid them on Seer on any patch of exposed skin.

“Let’s try the rest of the drink now, hmm?” To his satisfaction, she did finish it this time. “Excellent. Now, do you think you could eat something? I’ve some bread we could try. Or–” he looked to the boy – “Would there be any broth you could heat up?”

He worried at his lip. “I... Yeah. Mama wouldn’t mind so long as Cilie can keep it down. But it’ll mean less food tomorrow.”

“Could you heat up a small bowl for us? You’ll still have enough for tomorrow, I’m sure.”

The boy nodded and left the room again.

“Now, I need you to drink a draught with those herbs in it morning and night until it’s gone. You’ve three more doses left.”

“Thank you, Mr. Angel,” Seer said.

Crowley fisted his hands tightly on the bedsheet and looked down. “Don’t call me that. I’m not an angel. I’m not good. I just don’t see the point of making kids suffer. So, _please_ , call me anything but that.” He couldn’t quite stop the pleading from entering his voice.

“Sorry, I just… You’ve done so much for us. And you’ll be doing so much more. Are you a fairy-creature then? Or something else?”

He relaxed his hands. “I’m not. I’m just me.”

“You seem like an elf. Can I call you that?”

Crowley shrugged. “I’m not, but you can call me one if you want.”

Seer grinned. “Then that’s what I’ll do. Will I be strong enough to leave on Sunday?”

“Without a doubt, Ms. Seer. You’ll be dancing along with the best of them, your lugs as strong as a horse’s.”

At that moment, her brother returned with the broth. She set on it with abandon, and Crowley said his goodbyes. 

“Can I have a hug before you go?” Seer asked from the bed.

Crowley bit his lip. It was one thing when the kids initiated, but he’d have to do the work here. “I… yeah, of course. I can do that.” It was _just_ a hug after all. No big deal at all. He gently wrapped his arms around her. “Get better, you got it?”

“I will, because of you. Thank you, Mr. Elf.”

“No thanks necessary. Get some rest when you’re done eating. Good night.” He left and made his way to his next patient – a boy with a broken leg. Poor kid fell as he was helping his dad repair some leaking thatch on the roof. 

He gave the boy a draught for pain and ignored the scream as he forced the bone to set and reknit together. It was over soon enough, and the kid was able to walk around the room without any support.

“Now, your bone will still be weak for a while, so be careful. No climbing onto the roof or jumping off anything taller than a foot,” warned Crowley. “And make sure you’re eating as much as possible. And drink milk. That’ll help the bone heal better. Got it?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you! I feel fantastic!” Another hug.

Crowley rested his hands on the boy’s back. “Yeah, yeah. Just be careful. Okay?”

The boy nodded and Crowley said his goodbyes, leaving an elixir that should help the bone heal strongly along with strict instructions on how to take it.

He had another case of pneumonia and a girl with a severe case of the flu, both of whom were healed with little fanfare on his part, but much gratitude on behalf of his patients and their siblings. It was nearing two in the morning before he made his way back to the little Doctor-girl from that morning. 

Before he knocked on the back door, he pulled up the thinnest tendrils of hellfire and burned a mark into the side of the house. Another bit of power, and the mark wouldn’t activate until the following Monday, after he left with the children. A snap of his fingers and it disappeared. Without ethereal or demonic intervention, the house would burn down within the month.

Crowley knocked on the door, and a moment later it cracked open before being flung wide with a shout of “Crowley!” Next thing the demon knew, his arms were pinned to his side and he only remained standing thanks to a quick miracle.

“I see you haven’t changed, Python.”

A young face grinned up at him and Crowley only just now noticed the missing tooth. “Nope!”

“Let him go, Anselm.” And that would be Skeptic, ever the cautious older brother.

“C’mon, Python. Can I have my arms back?”

Reluctantly, the boy let go, but immediately grabbed the demon’s hand and dragged him inside. “Let’s go! Gerke wants to see you. She’s doing so much better. She spent the day sleeping.”

“Good, that’s exactly what she was supposed to do.”

“I still don’t understand what a witch could want with a bunch of children.

“’M not a witch,” said Crowley. “And I don’t really expect you to trust me. You’ve no reason to. But I’m doing this because when I was at my absolute worst, someone offered me shelter and a kind word. It was a kindness I never expected to receive again after my Mother kicked me out. He made me realize I could be more than what was expected of me. I think you can be more than is expected of you, too, if given the chance. And I like to make sure people have that chance.”

“Linde said it’s because you’ve seen dead kids before and didn’t want that to happen again.”

“Mmhmm, and she’s right. There’s lots of reasons I’m helping you.”

They entered the bedroom where Doctor was lying in bed, dozing. Crowley knelt at her beside and gently shook her shoulder. “Hey, Doctor. Remember me?”

She blinked up at him sleepily and grinned. “You’re the witch who healed me! Thank you, Mr. Witch.”

Crowley scowled. “One of your neighbors decided I was a fairy-creature, you’ve decided on a witch, General doesn’t care but doesn’t think I’m human. Meanwhile, here I am, just a semi-honest person trying to give a hand where it’s needed.”

She giggled. “Well, maybe if you weren’t so amazingly magical, we wouldn’t notice these things about you. But I like the idea of you being a fairy-creature. Which one are you?”

“None. I came here to give you some medicines. Your bones are still weak, even if they are healed. So I’ve brought this elixir for you.” He poured her a dose and showed her how to measure it out. “Drink that twice a day until it’s gone. Also be sure to drink as much milk as you can. Then your bones’ll be stronger than ever. Got it?”

“Well, I bet you’re an elf. Thank you, kind Elf. I’ll be sure to take my medicine every day.”

Crowley laughed and felt oddly warm at the affectionate nickname echoed from earlier that night. “That’s what your neighbor decided on, too. I’ll see you on Sunday, then. Or sooner. I’ll be hanging out in the town square the next two days; stop by if you can. Good night, little Doctor. Python, Skeptic.”

Python wouldn’t let him go without another bone-crushing hug. It’d only been two days and already Crowley was getting far too used to the touches. He gently pried the boy away, shook hands with Skeptic, and made his way back to the inn. On his way, he burned a few more curses into the homes or businesses of those who needed a little extra punishment.

* * *

Even though exhaustion clung to his limbs after all the healings, he didn’t bother sleeping. If he did, he was afraid he’d sleep for a week. Instead, he spent the rest of the night writing his report to Beelzebub. He thought ze might be pleased with his work here for once, especially since he left out certain key details. Like anything to do with kids. 

The next morning, he left before dawn. No one was awake in the inn, but he had already settled the bill, so it didn’t matter. And the girls knew he’d be back soon. He had to meet that boy to see where to hide the cart and connect the hollow to the caves where they’d make their home.

He tried to remember the directions to the shepherd boy’s house. It was on the northern side of town, he knew. Sure enough, he saw the kid sitting on a fence just as the sky was lightening. The kid jumped down and waved at him and Crowley led the donkey and cart over.

“Morning, Crowley!” he said grinning widely and waving with both arms over his head.

“You’re an energetic one, aren’t you, Dynamite?”

“Dynamite? What’s that?”

Damn, did that word not exist yet? Crowley never could keep track. “It means you’re explosive, too much energy, especially this early in the day. It’s what I’m going to call you.”

“But that’s not my name! I’m Borchard.” 

“So? Doesn’t mean I can’t call you something else. And Dynamite is rather fitting, don’t you think?”

The boy bit his lip. “And it means I’m energetic?” Crowley nodded, and the boy grinned up at him. “Mama always says I’ve got too much energy. She uses it as a sign to give me more work. So I suppose the name is fitting. I like it.”

“Good. Now, let’s get going. I want to be back in town by noon, and I’ve still got some things to take care of before I can head back.”

“What’re you going to do out here with no one around?”

“This and that. Get into disguise. Now, go get your herd.”

The boy saluted at him and jumped into the fenced in yard to collect the sheep. The two made their way into the fields surrounding the town, the kid asking question after question about everything from what was going to happen on Sunday to why the sky is blue. Crowley didn’t understand how the topics connected in the boy’s head but answered as best he could. He always loved inquisitive humans; they reminded him of Eve and the endless curiosity that led her out of a garden so long ago.

Soon enough, they came to the hill the boy had mentioned. He left his herd free to graze as he took Crowley to the hollow. It really was more of a cliff, albeit one less than twice the height of a grown human. Already there was a small pile of supplies pilfered from the village stashed just out of sight. Crowley would be adding a lot to that pile.

He unhitched the donkey and let it wander with the sheep as he thanked the boy. “Now, run along and watch your herd. I’ll be here a while doing boring things like inventory and changing.” And making a portal to Hell, but the boy didn’t need to know _that_.

“But you’ll stop by before you head back to the village?”

“Promise.”

The boy grinned and waved as he ran off. In the distance, he could see another kid with their family’s animals, and Dynamite headed in the same direction.

Crowley loaded the additional supplies onto the cart. Then eyed the opening. It really was just a shallow hollow in the side of the hill; didn’t extend more than a few feet into the dirt. But that didn’t matter. He got on his hands and knees and brushed the hints of snow and frost off the ground in front of the opening. He found a rock and carved symbols into the frozen dirt.

After some minutes of work, he stood up, satisfied. Unfortunately, he needed one other ingredient before he could activate the portal. It would be so much easier if he could transform into a snake, but it was winter and cold and his snake form wouldn’t be able to function. He sent out his awareness, trying to find what he needed.

Soon enough, he found it. He moved quickly over the frozen ground away from the village. He came to the top of a hill and laid down so he was looking from above. A herd of deer grazed before him. Perfect. He reached next to him and picked up a crossbow that hadn’t existed until that moment. The arrow it held wasn’t tipped with a point but rather a rounded stone. 

He picked his target and released the arrow. A doe on the edge of the herd fell while the rest panicked and fled. Crowley rushed down the hill to check the felled doe. She was stunned, but not dead. Perfect. 

With supernatural strength, he picked the creature up and carried her back to the hollow across his shoulders. He dropped her on the ground and warded the area against notice before starting an Enochian chant. 

When he reached the end of his chant, he knelt beside the body of doe and slit her neck, spilling her blood over the runes he had carved into the ground earlier. The blood sunk into the ground like water in a desert and the runes turned dark, blacker than anything natural to earth. The doe’s body dissolved into ash and sunk into the ground. A pulse of power came from the hollow before him, then everything returned to normal. 

Crowley walked into the hollow and found himself in a deserted area of Hell. He took a deep breath, sat down on the ground, and closed his eyes. He sunk his powers into the surrounding tunnel and reshaped the area. He brought the walls together, and collapsed the ceiling until he had a small, closed off section of Hell, only a few feet wide in any direction. He then threw up as many wards as he could to convince other demons to leave this area alone. This area was so little used, it was unlikely anyone would find it, but he wouldn’t risk these kids any more than necessary. He even managed to copy Beelzebub’s signature in the wards so anyone would think they were dealing with a Prince, rather than the no-rank Human Agent. 

Satisfied, he faced the wall opposite his new portal and worked on making another. Since it was easier to make a portal from Hell to Earth, at least for a demon, he wouldn’t need another sacrifice. He focused on his memories of the caves and chanted again. The wall sort of wavered, then went translucent, and finally vanished all together, showing rocky caves. As soon as he was done, he collapsed to his hands and knees, breathing hard. A wave of dizziness forced him to close his eyes.

Either the wards or the portals had pushed him just over the edge. Those on top of the healings had been too much for him. He clenched his fists and gritted his teeth. He couldn’t stop now; there was still more to be done. With a grunt, he pushed himself to his feet and stumbled through the new portal deep under a mountain. He lost some of his human features and used his more sensitive snake eyes and tongue to navigate in the limited light, keeping one hand on the stone wall. Soon enough, light started filtering in from outside and then he was looking down over a snow-blanketed valley with a half-frozen river running along the far side. Snowflakes fell gently to earth.

Crowley sat down and looked over the tableau. This would do wonderfully. Since he couldn’t sleep, he needed another cheat to regain some energy; looked like he’d be taking a page out of Aziraphale’s book. He summoned a large meal from a place in Spain he’d visited with the angel a few years back. Transporting things was easy and barely took any power if someone knew where to get it from. Before him sat a feast of dried fruits, stuffed eggs, and a warm stew. He wrinkled his nose but ate quickly. Eating was a faster way to regain energy than sleeping and he didn’t have much time.

Once he was done, he felt less weak and decided to get his disguise in order. The easiest thing would be to change his hair somewhat. He was at something of a disadvantage thanks to the unique color. Carefully, he ran his fingers through his hair, and as he did, the strands lengthened until they fell past his shoulders in gentle waves. He tied it back in a braid, securing it with a strap of leather.

He examined his clothes, next. He wanted something attention grabbing. Everyone in town needed to notice him the instant he walked in. With a grimace, he changed the black and grey outfit into gaudy colors while making the cloth less fine and well-worn. His tunic became a patchwork of red and blue and green and orange and was tied at the waist with a yellow belt. His leggings and cloak added even more colors, though his boots remained brown. He topped it off with a garish cap to distract from his hair color. Aziraphale had better _never_ hear of this. He fixed a dopey grin on his face and spun in place. Bells jangled at the ends of his cloak and tunic. He hated every stitch. 

Finally, he called forth a bone flute. In one of the Egyptian pyramids, he had adjusted plans to include a completely walled in chamber. He stored his most sentimental possessions there, trinkets he had gained over the years, to be summoned if wanted. This flute was nearly as old as humanity and had been given to him by a fondly remembered woman. He played a snippet of a mournful tune she had taught him so long ago before switching to something lively. Yes, this would work nicely. He quickly crossed back through Hell to the hills outside of Hamelin. 

He warded the new entrance to Hell so no human would be able to cross unless he accompanied them. However, children could approach to leave stolen supplies, and the cart with those already gathered remained visible to those who knew to look for it. No adult would see a thing. Finally, he magically tethered the donkey to the area so he wouldn’t wander. 

He sighed and fixed a ridiculously huge grin on his face. He channeled Aziraphale to get the expression just right by copying the expression the angel wore right before trying a new delicacy or seeing a play. Thus armored, he set out with a skip in his step, also learned from a certain angel.

Before returning to the village, he had a promise to keep. And this would be a good test for his disguise. He sent out his awareness for the nearest humans and found two surrounded by livestock nearby. He skip-walked in their direction.

Soon enough, he saw them and let his grin get bigger. “Hail! Good morning to you!” he called with a robust wave. 

“Good morning!” one of the children called back. 

“What brings you here?” asked the other.

“Fulfilling a promise!” replied Crowley. He was now close enough to recognize Dynamite and identify the other as a girl of about ten. “I told you I’d stop by to say hi before I returned to the village, didn’t I, Dynamite? And I don’t believe I had the chance to meet you yesterday, lass. I’m Crowley, though while I’m dressed like I go by Antonius.” 

“Hi, Crowley! I’m Aythe. Borchard was telling me about you. My brother, sister, and I’ll be going away with you.”

Dynamite was staring with his mouth open, so Crowley ignored him. “The more the merrier! I’ll be hanging about in the town square today, stop by if you can. Do you know anyone who’s sick? Make sure they know I’ll be passing out medicines. Midnight house calls for those bedbound.”

“My siblings and I are fine. But our neighbor has a bad cold. I’ll make sure he knows.”

“Good.” Crowley looked at the other boy. “I know you’re hungry, but it’s too cold even for flies right now. And I don’t think they’d fly into your mouth even if it _was_ summer.”

The kid snapped his jaw shut. “You look so different! And your hair is long now! How’d you manage it?”

Crowley tapped the side of his nose. “I have my ways. Now, I’ll leave the two of you to your animals and head into the village.”

He pulled out his flute and played a lively tune as he made his way to town. Once he did, everyone he passed stopped to stare at him. Kids began laughing and danced behind him while the adults looked on in confusion. He went to the town square and sat on the edge of the fountain there and played for the group of children that had gathered behind him. Many he hadn’t met, but he recognized a few. 

He noted the town’s Mayor watching him warily, his son a step behind him. Crowley lowered the flute and smiled broadly at the man. His mouth was getting sore. How could Aziraphale keep smiling for so long? “How do you do this fine day?” he asked. It was far too cold for him to consider it fine, but the sun was out, even if it was a weak wintery sun.

“Hail, stranger. I’m Hardrat, the Mayor of Hamelin. What brings you to our town in the dead of winter?”

“My name is Antonius and I’m just passing through, Mr. Mayor! I’m a wanderer at heart, never could stay in one place for more than a few weeks. Would there be an inn you could recommend me? This looks like a lovely town so I thought I might stay a few nights before moving on.”

“Yes, of course. There’s an inn just over there. The building with the green sign on the left, do you see it?”

Crowley looked where he was pointing. It was General’s family’s inn where he had stayed the previous two nights. “Yes, thank you. I’ll be sure to check them out.”

“Excellent. The couple who runs it are very diligent and will take good care of you. I must warn you, however. We’ve had an infestation of rats and food is more costly than you might expect, even considering it’s the middle of winter.”

Crowley hummed. “Well, I might be able to help you with that. As you can see, my primary passion is music, however that isn’t always enough to put food in my belly or a roof over my head. As such, I’ve picked up a few other skills over the years. I’m a fair rat-catcher and would be happy to offer my services. How much would you pay if I could rid you of your infestation?”

“It’s been a losing battle, I’m afraid. Going rate is 10 guilder, adjusted based on how many rats you manage to actually kill.”

“And if I could get them all?”

The mayor laughed. “We’ve been fighting this infestation for months now. We’ve tried everything. You won’t be able to get more than a few dozen.”

Crowley shrugged. “I wouldn’t expect payment until after I finished the task, of course. It won’t cost you a copper to let me try so what’s the harm? I can try and fail and you have a laugh at my expense. If I succeed, I get paid and you no longer have an infestation.”

The mayor shrugged. “Then go ahead and try. If by some miracle of God you succeed, let’s make it, oh, a thousand guider. You won’t, but go ahead anyway.”

Crowley smiled, showing all his teeth. This might work _even better_ than his original plans. “By tomorrow noon, there won’t be a single rat in this town. I’ll expect my payment then.”

The man laughed as he walked away. Crowley watched as he walked over to a group of adults who all started laughing as well. Mayor-boy stayed behind and Crowley grinned at him. “So, what would you say the chances of me actually getting paid are?”

The boy came closer, looking at him oddly. “Are you really the same person? You look so different. And wasn’t your hair short? How’d you do that?” he asked, keeping his voice down so no one would hear.

“I have my ways. Quite a few of your friends think I’m not human. General’s keeping quiet about what she thinks I am, but a few of your neighbors think I’m some sort of fairy-creature. Which is ridiculous, of course. I’m just me.”

“And what is ‘just you’?”

Crowley threw his head back and laughed. “Don’t I look human to you?”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“No, I suppose it doesn’t. But you didn’t answer mine, either.”

Mayor-boy grinned ruefully. “I’d say you’d be more likely to see it rain wine than get that money.”

“So I’ve a shot then. I’ve seen water turned to wine before. Never seen a miser willingly give up his coin, though.”

The kid didn’t seem to know how to respond to then and eventually settled on, “You’re weird.” Which set Crowley laughing again.

Once he got himself back under control, he said, “That’s probably the least offensive way I’ve heard myself described. I’ll take it.” He turned to look at the other kids before him, many of whom were watching the back-and-forth with fascination. “Now, I met up with General…”

“He means Linde,” interrupted Mayor-boy.

“…Mayor-boy…”

“Me,” clarified the kid.

“…Scribe…”

“Werner”

“…and quite a few others the other night. Realized I could do something to help you out. Talk to them for details. If you need medicines or know someone who’s sick let me know. Those who can be up and about can find me here today and tomorrow afternoon. If anyone is bed-bound, I’ll go to them after midnight, just tell me where. I’ll play my flute and tell stories so you have an excuse to be seen with me.”

Mayor-boy added to his explanations. “Anyone who hasn’t heard the rumors or has questions, come near me and I’ll explain what I can. Anyone who needs medicine or is satisfied with what they already know can stay here with Crowley. Er, I mean Antonius. Sorry.”

Crowley waved his hand. “It’s alright, just try not to slip again. I’m Antonius when I’m in this ridiculous getup.”

The group of children split into two groups, the larger of which surrounded Mayor-boy. While he filled them in on the plans, the rest surrounded Crowley. He was busy listening to lists of symptoms and sending out feelers with his power to see what exactly was wrong. Most of them only had mild colds, but their bodies were malnourished and struggling to fight off even the mildest of infections. He passed out tinctures and packets of herbs with strict instructions on how to take them. He also collected the addresses and concerns of siblings and cousins and friends who were too ill to move. He’d have another busy night. Still, it didn’t take too long before the kids were all informed and treated and Crowley took out his flute and played a jig to the excitement of his audience who began dancing. 

And so the afternoon wore on, kids came and went. It seemed everyone wanted to take the chance to meet their guardian-creature. No one could seem to agree on _what_ he was, but Elf came up a lot. Seer and her brother must have spread the word that calling him an angel was a bad idea because he didn’t hear that suggestion once, to his relief. Many came to ask for medicine and a few for home visits. Crowley played and told stories. General stopped by to say hello while running errands. Scribe made an appearance, but he was with his parents and couldn’t linger. 

Soon enough, the sun was setting, and Crowley said his good nights to his young friends. He went to the inn to book a room. Unfortunately, although he wanted nothing more than to crawl into a bed and rest for a few hours before he started house calls, that was not in keeping with the persona he had adopted. Instead, he ordered dinner in the main room and enthralled the other patrons with stories of adventures he’d had. Crowley could tell they didn’t believe any of them, but they were entertained anyway. Finally, he was able to claim exhaustion and head to bed only to find two girls hanging out in his room. 

“You look ridiculous,” said General in lieu of a greeting when he walked in. 

“I think you look really pretty! The colors are so much fun!” contradicted her sister.

Crowley rolled his eyes. “Then I feel bad for your big sister. She’s right; I look an absolute fool. But that was the point, so I’m glad I succeeded. What did you two need?”

Turned out they just wanted to say hi. Small-Inn-Girl asked where he’d learned to play the flute, and Crowley told her about the old friend who taught him. Soon enough they were on their way out the door and Crowley was left alone. He continued working on his report to Hell, including creation of the portals, though he left out their locations. He ignored the desire to sleep and instead waited for the midnight bells so he could begin his rounds again. 

He was so caught up in his report that when the loud clanging of the bells sounded, it startled Crowley so badly he bolted up and tried to jump out of bed. Unfortunately, his legs were tangled in blankets and he made his way directly to the floor. He rubbed his aching hip as he miracled the blankets back to the bed, freeing his legs. With a groan he stood up and shook out his clothes to return them to his normal, dark style. 

He made his rounds in much the same way as he had the night before. He treated another two cases of pneumonia, three broken bones, gastrointestinal conditions brought on by spoiled food, and other such complaints. As he traveled through town, he left curses burned into two more of the homes. Fires would be common this winter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, first things. I'm planning on making this into a series. The second part hasn't been started, but will be a collection of scenes from Crowley and the kids living together. Aziraphale ends up joining them. It might be a few weeks to months before I get them up depending on what happens with life in the meantime. I've at least four chapters plotted out so far. 
> 
> Second things. The crossbow Crowley uses wouldn't work in real life, I don't think. And stunning an animal doesn't usually work like that, either. Crowley doesn't know this, so it works out for him.
> 
> Hope you enjoy, the final chapter should be out in 3-4 days depending on how editing goes.
> 
> Say hi on my [Tumblr](https://wolfjackle.tumblr.com/)!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley steals some children away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I'm finally done! You guys don't want to know how much of this chapter had to be rewritten for the second time, but I knew that was going to happen. I hope you enjoy!

The next morning, when Crowley ambled downstairs an hour or so after dawn, the mayor and a few others were already sitting in the dining area of the inn. All conversation stopped when he walked in. Then the snickering started.

Crowley just let his ridiculous grin grow. “Good morning to all of you! What a surprise to see so many people here; must be a testament to the skills of the cook that so many come by for breakfast!” Very few people had plates in front of them.

He saw General’s mother and requested a small meal for himself. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t be able to push it off on one of the kids today, not if he had an audience. So he cleared the plate without help; he could use the energy anyway. 

When he stood up, half the room did as well. “Oh, well now I feel important.”

The Mayor grinned at him. “We just want to see what you’re going to do. Since you seem so sure of your abilities, we thought you wouldn’t mind an audience as you miraculously fix our rat infestation.”

Crowley shrugged. “No skin off my nose whether you watch or not. Just remember, you’re the one who offered a thousand guilder if I succeeded.” He walked out of the building followed by some dozen spectators.

He made his way to one of the main entrances to town and brought the flute to his lips and began to play. His entourage stared at him open-mouthed before laughing uproariously. Then, Crowley weaved his power into the music and called to every rat. Pestilence had claimed rats for Hell, so a demon could call on them more easily than most animals. He reached his magic into hidden crannies and cellars and pulled on what he found there.

Rats began trickling into the street, pouring out of the surrounding buildings. The laughter that surrounded him turned to screams as his spectators tried to get away from the small creatures. The Mayor was standing on top of a wooden barrel, and Crowley stared right at him and smirked into his flute.

Crowley weaved his way around town, going down alleys and main roads alike, not leaving any inch out of reach of his call. Behind him, the mass of rats grew larger and larger. In the street, people rushed inside any building they could find as they tried to get out of his way. From second stories, Crowley could see kids leaning out the windows and pointing in amazement until frightened parents pulled them in and slammed the shutters shut. 

Back and forth across town Crowley walked; his song never letting up. Behind him, it was impossible to see the cobblestones of the streets beneath the multitudes of rats. And still he kept playing as he meandered through the town.

The sun was much higher in the sky by the time he finally finished his rounds. He walked out of town followed by the destructive beasts and went all the way to the river’s edge. He stopped but, urged on by his power, the rats kept going. They threw themselves into the icy water en masse, not hesitating even a moment before surging over the bank. Those that didn’t die from shock were drowned as their brethren jumped on top of them.

Soon enough, every rat had jumped into the river and been carried away by the current. 

Finally finished, Crowley ended his tune and tucked away his flute. He turned around and not a single human was in sight. He ambled back into town, taking empty streets back to the town square where he took up his seat from the previous day on the side of the fountain. Idly he watched the clouds as he waited for the people hiding away in their homes to emerge.

Almost half an hour passed before anyone approached him. In that time, he watched shutters and doors crack open and curious faces peer out at him only for them to be slammed shut the instant he appeared to look in their direction. Crowley saw the Mayor march down the empty street from quite a distance. The anger and fear the man felt filled Crowley’s mouth and he smiled. Usually he hated the taste, but in this case, he only felt satisfaction in a job well done.

“Good day to you, Mayor! I believe I did my part of the bargain,” called Crowley when the man was within shouting distance.

The Mayor stalked forward until he was standing right in front of the demon, looming over him. If Crowley had been human, he might’ve even been intimidated. “ _You’re_ the one who plagued us with the rats to begin with, aren’t you? And you left them here long enough for us to get desperate before swooping in to save us. You’re a witch and devil-worshipper!”

Crowley raised an eyebrow. One of those was sort-of right, but it wasn’t like he’d _wanted_ to worship Satan. Just kind of came with the territory. “I have never set foot in this place before. Had no idea you existed until I saw the town yesterday morning. You promised me payment for services rendered, will you pay up?”

“Absolutely not! We are God-fearing people here; we won’t put up with your sorcery.” 

“And yet, because of me, you have the chance to not starve this winter. You promised a reward. I delivered. I’ll expect my money by the time church services start on Sunday.”

“You won’t get a penny from any of us.”

“It’s Friday. I’ll be right here the rest of today and most of tomorrow. And Sunday at dawn. I’ll expect my payment by then.”

The man scoffed. “You’re no longer welcome in this town. You’d better be gone by nightfall, Piper.”

“As I said, I’ll leave after you pay me. You have until Sunday Services start.”

The man turned on his heel and stomped away without another word. Crowley watched him until he disappeared around a corner before getting up and changing locations. He saw a crate against a wall of one of the buildings in the square and figured it’d be better to have his back protected. Eventually, townsfolk started emerging from their homes and going about their day again, though all gave Crowley a wide berth. Some children still approached him, but they seemed to be the ones without parents to protest. Crowley passed out bread and medicines just as he had the day before.

Not too long after his altercation with the Mayor, General’s father came up to him and threw the bag he’d left in the inn at him. “We won’t have a witch staying at our inn. Leave town and don’t darken our doorstep again!” He stormed off before Crowley could respond.

The first time he brought his flute out and to play a tune, one woman screamed and another fainted. The men tried to look tough, but Crowley didn’t have to be a demon to realize how scared they were.

Still, the kids who could approach him appreciated the music, so he kept playing. One girl asked for a specific song and sang along. The others soon joined in. 

When he was between songs and the group was passionately debating what to play next, a hooded figure approached them, being sure to keep their face shadowed. The kids fell silent. “Crowley?” the figure asked.

“That you, General?” he asked, voice quiet. Then louder, “You lot come to a decision yet? Tell me what I’m playing!” The kids resumed their loud argument.

“Yeah, it’s me. Werner…”

“Who?”

“I think you call him Scribe? He’s the one who’s family owns the stables we met in that first night.”

“Got it.”

“Anyway, he said he can get you into the stables again if you head over after dark. It won’t be as comfortable as a room, but you’ll be out of the weather and we’ll give you some coals and blankets to keep warm.”

“You don’t have to put yourselves out if it’s dangerous. I can take care of myself for a night if I need to,” said Crowley.

General shook her head. “We want to do this. It’s not dangerous at all. Promise.”

“Then I will gladly take advantage. Thanks for letting me know.”

She nodded and rushed away before anyone could recognize her.

A few other kids approached as the day went on—those who needed medicines or who came on behalf of someone needing a midnight visit. Luckily, only three more of those came up. 

Before long, the sun was approaching the horizon and Crowley sent his audience away. He made his way to the stables he would be spending the night in, sticking to back alleys and shadowed paths as much as possible. He concealed himself behind a barrel where he could see the doors to both the stable and house and would know when Scribe showed up to let him in. 

It was full dark, and Crowley had to pull on his inner Hellfire twice to his knees from locking before he saw the boy. The demon hissed as he tried to stand, cold really wasn’t good for his joints, but eventually he got himself up and waved at the kid to get his attention. “Over here, kid.” 

The boy grinned. “There you are! It’s Antonius now, right? Are you okay? Let’s get you inside and wrapped up in some blankets.”

His teeth were chattering. When had that started? “Yeah, prob’ly a good idea.”

Scribe guided him with a hand on the elbow into the stables and led Crowley to a stall. It looked like it had been cleared out and fresh hay had been laid down and covered with a rough blanket. Crowley collapsed onto the rough bed and the boy handed him a few more blankets, these a bit softer than the one he was lying on. 

“Now, I’ll be right back; just give me a moment.”

Crowley nodded as he wrapped himself up in the blankets and the boy half-ran from the building, returning a moment later with a metal pail. The handle was wrapped in fabric and burning coals glowed inside. He cleared an area free of straw and set the bucket down in front of his guest. 

“There, that should help you get warmed up.”

Crowley was already pulling his hands free of the blankets to warm them over the coals. “Yeah, this’ll work perfectly.”

“We’ve been collecting the numbers for you. There’s 135 of us who want to leave with you. The youngest are two years old and the oldest are sixteen. There are fifteen of us who are fifteen and sixteen. Forty-three are over ten. And the remaining seventy-seven are between two and ten.” He handed a roll of parchment to Crowley who took it. “I’ve got all the numbers listed there. I even wrote down any skills we might be able to bring. At least us older ones. Albrecht is great at getting people to listen to him and do what he says. I’m good at numbers and writing. Linde can organize. I made note of who the best cooks are. Who can do some weaving. The blacksmith’s sons know something of his trade. And more. It’s all there.”

Crowley squinted at the paper, but the light was too poor for him to read it. “This should be extremely helpful, good work. I wish everyone I’ve worked with could be half so organized.” Hastur and Ligur came to mind; those two wouldn’t know how to share information if it saved their lives. Actually, he remembered one collaboration he was forced into where Hastur _did_ get discorporated because he didn’t bother telling Crowley where he’d be lurking.

“Will you need anything else? I can’t stay too long or my parents might notice.”

“Nah, this’ll be more than enough for me.” And with that, Crowley was left alone waiting for the midnight bell. His rounds went much more quickly today with only three patients, and he decided he would take advantage and snag a few hours’ worth of sleep before he had to sneak out of the stable in the morning. He wrapped himself tightly in the blankets and ensured the coals in the bucket would burn warmly all night before drifting off into oblivion.

* * *

The next morning, Scribe woke Crowley up before dawn. “Sorry, Crowley. But people will be in and out of here come dawn, so it’s best if you leave now.”

“I’ll be glad to leave this town behind,” grumbled Crowley. “I need a good sleep.”

“Everyone else’ll be glad to be out of here, too. Will you be alright? Do you need anything for breakfast?”

Crowley waved a hand in the air. “Nah, I’m good. Don’t eat much usually. It’s Saturday. Are you ready for tomorrow?”

The boy took a shaky breath and laughed nervously. “I honestly don’t know. I’ll be glad everyone’s safe, but this is the only home I’ve ever known. It’s hard knowing I’ll be leaving for good.”

Crowley nodded in sympathy. “My mother kicked me out, I mentioned that, right?” At the boy’s nod he continued, “I wasn’t ready to leave. Had nowhere to go. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever been through. Made worse by the fact that I had to accept my own Mother didn’t care about me. I had to leave behind everything and everyone I knew and loved. And the place I found myself was… Hell. Very much an every-person-for-themselves type of place where someone’d rather kick you than help you up if you tripped. This will be the most difficult thing you’ll ever do. But I’ll make sure that you can get your feet under you before you’re left on your own. I can’t promise much, but I can promise that.”

“Thank you,” he said, voice full of gratitude.

“Don’t thank me. I’m doing it for me just as much as you. Need to prove to myself that the story doesn’t always play out the same way.” He stood up and helped fold the blankets. Soon enough, no sign of his stay remained. “See you later.”

The boy hesitated a moment before hugging Crowley tightly. The demon returned the gesture and ran his fingers through the boy’s hair. 

“You’ll be alright, kid. All of you.”

They soon parted ways and Crowley made his way to the town square, again taking up a spot where his back was against a building. He didn’t play his flute but twirled it between his fingers and watched the town wake as the sun rose.

Same as the day before, most adults shot him scared or angry looks while they rushed their children past him. Kids who were in the know would take a minute to grin and wave at him if they could. If they couldn’t, they’d at least make eye contact as they passed.

Once he figured enough people were awake, he began to play his flute again. To his disappointment, it didn’t have quite the reaction of the day before, but it did cause people to walk faster to get away from him. 

A few children with no one to watch them gathered, just as they had the day before. Soon they were singing and dancing, and Crowley smiled into his flute as they played. It was midmorning when the group approached them.

The square seemed to empty out, and Crowley noticed the Mayor with a group of young, strong men all armed and glaring at him. “You kids need to get out of here and hide, got it? Don’t worry about me; I’ll be fine.”

They looked behind them at the coming trouble and most fled. Some of the older ones hesitated just a moment, but Crowley urged them to go and they listened. He stood to face the coming trouble and tucked the flute under his cloak where he banished it back to that secret room in an Egyptian tomb. 

“Good morning, Mayor! Are you here with my payment? You’ve less than a day to get it to me now.”

The man scowled. “I believe I told you to get out of town.”

“And I said I’d give you until Sunday services to pay me. Figured you’d appreciate the extra time to gather the funds.”

“You’re not getting a single copper from me, Witch. These boys are here to convince you to leave.”

Seven men accompanied the Mayor, four with swords raised, the other three brandishing knives. They all looked like they knew how to use their weapons and had the muscles to back up that knowledge. 

Crowley faked a nervous smile and held his empty hands out to either side of him to show he was unarmed. “Now, now, surely that’s a bit excessive?” 

“I think it’s exactly what you need. Boys?”

That seemed to be the cue, for all seven men rushed at the lone demon, blades raised. Faster than they could keep up with, Crowley ducked to the ground and rolled out of the way. He kept his back to the wall and pulled out a short sword and knife of his own and blocked the blows he couldn’t dodge. Every opening he saw, he darted in his own attack. 

Within minutes, his attackers were all lying on the ground clutching at wounds and injuries. Crowley, through a careful application of miracles and hard-learned skill, didn’t have a single mark on him. 

Crowley stepped around the groaning bodies and positioned himself right in front of the Mayor. When the man went to take a step back, he grabbed his cloak and held him close. “This is the only warning you get. I won’t be so nice a second time. I’ll be back tomorrow morning.”

The Mayor mumbled something unintelligible as the taste of his fear filled Crowley’s mouth. Crowley released his cloak and the man stumbled, just barely catching himself before he was sprawled on the ground like his companions. Crowley snorted and turned his back on the man.

Unfortunately, it looked like he wouldn’t be able to stay in the town for the rest of the day, so he made his way to the fields where that energetic kid, Dynamite, watched his sheep. Maybe he’d run into him or someone else out there. It would be one way to spend the afternoon. He could also see what else the kids had managed to steal.

Soon enough he saw the herds of animals and their watcher was running towards him. It took a miracle to remain standing when the boy ran into him, wrapping his arms around Crowley’s waist.

“How did you do that yesterday?! Did you really stand up to Mayor Hardrat and refuse to leave when he ordered you out? Weren’t you supposed to stay in the town square? Why’re you out here? Can you play something for us on your flute? Where’d you learn to play, anyway?”

Crowley didn’t think the boy was breathing, he spoke so fast. “Slow down there, Dynamite,” he said, laughing. “And a friend taught me to play a long time ago. I picked up the skill for charming animals with music in India. They have snake charmers over there.” Of course, those were tricks and the snakes were often abused, but he did get the _idea_ from watching them. Before punishing them for mistreating their snakes, of course. “I’m out here because your Mayor decided to have me jumped in the square. Apparently, he didn’t appreciate the fact that I gave him two extra days to gather the money he promised me. He’ll have one more chance before Church tomorrow, but I don’t expect it to go any better. So, figured I’d lay low for the rest of the day. See if any more supplies were dropped off. Check in on you.”

“The Mayor tried to attack you? Are you hurt?” He let go of Crowley to run around him and check for injuries. “And where’s India?”

“He tried to attack me. It didn’t work. I’m not hurt. India is a country very far away. Why don’t we sit and relax somewhere, and I can tell you some stories about it? Any other kids watching herds close by?”

“Yeah! Bruno and Aythe are here. You met Aythe the other day with me. But I don’t think you’ve met Bruno yet. Come on!” He grabbed Crowley’s hand and dragged the demon along behind him.

It didn’t take long to reach the others who were pulling out their midday meals as they sheltered besides a large rock that blocked some of the winter wind.

“Bruno! Aythe! Look who’s joining us for the afternoon! It’s Crowley! Apparently, Mayor Hardrat kicked him out of town so he’s hanging out with us until he can sneak back in. He’s been to a country called India and he’s promised to tell us about it! They charm snakes there! It’s where he learned how to get the rats to follow him!” The kid was literally bouncing.

“Satan, kid, do you ever breathe? You are human, right? Last I checked humans needed to take in air before they could talk.” 

“I breathe! But it’s so amazing. There’s so much to tell them and if I don’t say it right away I’ll _forget_ something.”

The girl, Aythe, laughed. “That’s Borchard for you. He’s always rushing around. His mama hates it. Says he’s always getting in trouble. He’ll interrupt your story to ask questions, just so you know.”

“I just want to make sure I’m not _missing_ anything.”

Crowley couldn’t help the genuine smile that grew on his face. “Don’t ever hold back a question from me, okay? I want people to ask questions. How else do I know if you understand me or not?”

The other boy, Bruno, looked at him oddly. “You’re strange. I’ve never met an adult who liked it when children asked them questions before.”

Crowley shrugged. “Then I don’t think too much of the adults you’ve met. I will never get mad about a question. I might not be able to answer, but if that’s the case I’ll tell you I can’t answer and why not.”

Dynamite broke in before his companions could say anything else. “So, India?”

Crowley laughed and entertained the three with stories for the rest of the afternoon. As predicted, Dynamite couldn’t help but interrupt to ask questions every few sentences, but it kept the conversation flowing and Crowley answered every one. When the other two saw he didn’t mind, they started injecting their own questions. It seemed like no time had passed at all when the sun started to sink in the sky and the children realized they were going to be late for dinner. 

With rushed goodbyes, they gathered their animals and made their way back to their homes. Crowley followed and made sure each made it back safely, though he stayed out of sight from windows as much as possible. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had an afternoon like that. It was nice. The exact sort of thing a demon wasn’t supposed to like.

He waited for dark to fully fall before he made his way back to Scribe’s family’s stable. The boy met him and set him up with another bucket of burning coals and a pile of blankets. Crowley took both gladly.

“Hard to believe that tonight will be the last night I sleep in my bed.” He wouldn’t look at Crowley as he spoke. 

Crowley, who’d been about to sit down, stood up straight and peered at the boy from behind his glasses. “Are you having second thoughts? You do have a choice in this.”

He shook his head. “I’m not. But, well. Did you know I have three siblings? An older and younger brother and a younger sister. None of them will be coming with us. And, well, it’s hard. I love my siblings. But my friends need me, and they don’t. Sorry, I’m being silly. You probably want to sleep. I’ll go now.” 

Crowley reached out and laid a hand on his shoulder. “You’re not being silly. Can you join me for a bit? You could tell me about your brothers and sister. The things you’ll miss, the things you’ll be glad to leave.”

Scribe hesitated a moments before turning to face Crowley. “I… yeah. I think I’d like that.”

“All right, let’s sit down and talk.” 

The two got as comfortable as possible on the make-shift straw bed and Scribe started talking. “My older brother got married last year. I like his wife. They don’t have any kids yet, but I think they’ll be better than most other parents in town. He always looked out for me when I was little, you know? He’s going to inherit our parent’s business and the plan is for me to work for him when he does. Manage the finances. But I don’t think I _want_ to do that.”

Crowley nodded. “I certainly wouldn’t. Sounds boring.”

“No, it’s not that. I don’t mind numbers and things. It’s what I do for Albrecht, er, Mayor-boy? And Linde. General. I enjoy that. I can’t explain it, but when I do it for my family… I feel restless. Trapped. It just doesn’t feel _meaningful_. Not like it does for the others. And I want to see something of the world before I tie myself down to the family business. Experience something. Live. Seems making sure my friends have a chance is a good way to do that.”

“You’re in an unusual position, aren’t you? You’re one of the few who actually has a choice.”

“Yeah, I do. And I’m one of the few who’ll miss it here.” 

“Why don’t you tell me about the good bits of this town? Right now I think it’d be better if it all burned.”

“Oh, no. That’d be awful! You should see this place at Christmas – candles in the windows and wreaths and evergreen boughs everywhere. The flowers in the spring. And there are some good people. All my friends, of course. But my little sister. She’s so smart. Honestly, if she was a boy, our parents would have her manage the finances for our business once she was a bit older. As it is, she does my work when I get distracted with Albrecht and Linde.”

“Stupid rule if you ask me. Girls can do just as much as men can. Sometimes more.”

“Knowing her and Linde, I agree.”

Scribe went on to talk about his younger brother, already learning to use a sword. He described feast days and harvest celebrations. At some point in the conversation, he ended up leaning against Crowley’s side, and the demon, completely without thought, wrapped his arm around the boy’s shoulders. 

He had more complicated feelings about his parents. They cared about him but expected him to live the life they set up for him. They couldn’t understand why he wanted something more. By the time he finished talking, it was so late it was early. 

“You know what I think, Scribe?” asked Crowley after the boy fell silent.

“What?”

“I think you’re going to be all right. You’ve a good head on your shoulders. And you’ll be able to see the subtleties in things better than your friends. You’ve seen what this place has done to them, but you can also see there’s something worth while here. I think your friends will need that from you.”

“I suppose I can. Do you really think it’ll help?”

“I do. And let me tell you something else. You’ll probably always love parents to some degree. And that’s not a bad thing. It seems they did the best they knew. But what they knew wasn’t what was best for you. They should’ve talked to you and figured out what you needed before dictating your life, but they probably weren’t raised with many choices either. It’s hard to do something differently from the way it’s been done before. They couldn’t raise above their past. You refuse to submit to it. That’s not their fault and it’s not yours. And if you ask me, you’ve got the right of it. I refused to go along with my Mother’s plan unquestioningly, and when I was kicked out, I refused to be the evil boogeyman I was expected to become.”

“How could anyone expect _you_ to be evil?”

Crowley hummed. “Most people who know my Mother consider her the paragon of virtue and goodness. Anyone who doesn’t go along with Her _must_ be evil. And most of the ones She kicked out are awful people who take delight in the suffering of others. They think that since they were forced to suffer, they should make everyone else suffer, too.”

“Your mother sounds pretty awful.”

Crowley shrugged. “She and I don’t see eye to eye. But most people will tell you that’s my fault.”

“Hmm, I don’t know her, obviously, but I think I prefer your side of things. Thanks for talking to me, tonight.”

“Don’t thank me; it’s what I’m here for. But it is ridiculously late. You should try and get _some_ sleep tonight. Busy day in just a few short hours, now.”

Scribe laughed. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep a wink tonight. Too excited. And scared. But I’ll see you in the morning.”

“That you will. And we’ll be out of reach of anyone by noon.”

“It still doesn’t feel real,” but he was smiling as he said it, so Crowley didn’t worry too much. And with one last hug, he was alone.

* * *

The next morning, Crowley snuck out of the stables before dawn after packing away the blankets. He decided to miracle them onto the pile of supplies they were taking as it was highly unlikely anyone would notice them missing until after church. 

Crowley walked towards the church and took up a seat across the street where he could wait for the sun to rise and watch everyone gather. Soon enough, the sun shone weakly on the steeple and people entered the church in small groups. The majority who saw him crossed themselves then pointedly ignored him.

When the Mayor came by, Crowley called out to him. “Morning, Mayor! This is your last chance. Do you have my payment?”

The man glared from across the street. “I told you, you won’t get a single copper out of me.”

Crowley shrugged. “I’ll be gone by the time service is over and you’ll never see me again. Is that what you want?”

“I don’t want to be seeing you right now! I told you to leave two days ago!”

“Very well, I’ll leave. And when I do, remember you wanted this.” He walked away, whistling, as the man spluttered angrily behind him. 

Crowley made his way to the edge of town and waited another quarter hour to account for anyone who was running late for service before pulling out his flute and beginning to play. Into the music he wove a compulsion that called to the children just as it had called to the rats two days before. Around him, doors opened and out came the children. As soon as their feet touched the street, they began to dance. When Crowley started his circuit, the dancing crowd followed him and grew.

He followed a similar pattern as he had two days earlier. The children behind him laughed and sang as they danced and squeezed down alleys with him. He led them on a merry trek and couldn’t help smiling himself. If he’d been able to put down his flute, he would’ve been laughing along with his entourage.

Finally, he had covered the entire town and it was time for his final message to the town. He led the children to the church. At the sound of his flute and the children, someone opened the doors to see what was going on. A woman screamed and the Mayor pushed himself to the front of the crowd. 

Everyone who could see what was happening, started shouting. Crowley couldn’t make out any specific words in the cacophony, but the sentiment behind them was clear. Rather than give them a second thought, he wove a second spell into his music. The ones at the front of the crowd rushed into the street and immediately fell to their knees sobbing. Anyone who wanted to interfere with the exodus was assaulted with nightmarish visions—battlefields covered in bodies; child-slaves being beaten; children, overworked and miserable. The faces they saw on the soldiers and slaves were those of their children. Crowley wanted them to _know_ what they were more than willing to subject their kids to before he left.

It didn’t take long before the rest realized they had to stay within the grounds of the church or be incapacitated as their neighbors and friends were. The procession of children with a demon at its head passed by unmolested.

He led them right out of town, past the fields where Dynamite and his friends would graze their sheep, to the cliff with his newly made portal through Hell. And, finally, he lowered his flute and cancelled the spells. 

Slowly, the children blinked themselves back to reality as they shook off the compulsion he had placed them under. 

Mayor-boy was the first to question him. “Where are we going? You said south? But we exited the town to the north.”

Crowley grinned. “I did and we did.” He looked over the crowd in front of him. “There you are, Skeptic! Could you get the donkey hooked up to the cart? I think it’s time you all saw your new home.” 

He went to the cart and miracled up wood for torches as Skeptic brought over the donkey. He passed out burning torches to every fifth kid. The caves would be dark on the other side of the portal, and he’d be at the back of the group this time. Once all the torches were passed out, he ordered everyone to find a partner, and asked the oldest kids to watch the youngest ones. 

Soon enough, everyone was organized, with Skeptic and Python in charge of the donkey and cart since their family bred the beast. Crowley decided to duck through his passage to make sure no demons had disrupted his pathway. A quick test of the wards proved no one had been there since he’d made them. Crowley returned to his kids.

“All right, everyone listen up!” shouted Crowley. Any idle chatter fell silent as over a hundred and thirty kids looked at him. “If you go through this cave here, you will find yourself in our new home! I know it doesn’t look like it goes far, but I promise you’ll make it. Keep hold of your partner and don’t dawdle. Don’t block the passage on the other side, either. We all have to make it through. There’s plenty of room as long as you all don’t crowd the entrance! General, Mayor-boy, I want you two at the front. Help keep everyone calm. Skeptic and Python, you follow them with the cart. Scribe, if you could be somewhere in the middle. And I’ll take up the rear. Got it?” 

Everyone nodded and agreed, and Crowley ordered his two leaders to head into the cave immediately. They obeyed, and the rest followed behind.

Crowley looked back to town and saw a group forming. He strengthened his vision and saw they were mostly men with weapons raised. A mob was forming. He looked back over the group still on this side of the portal; over half remained. 

“Quickly, everyone!” he urged. But they were already going as fast as they could. He looked back towards the village; the mob was still far enough off, though getting closer.

Half the group were through now, and Crowley told Scribe he should pass through. It was only now that any of the kids noticed the approaching group and started panicking. 

Crowley let out an ear-piercing whistle. “Everyone stay calm! No one will take you away from me. We have enough time to pass through the cave before they get to us, and they won’t be able to follow us through. I promise! And if they get too close, I’ll play my flute again and paralyze them just like I did before! Do not be afraid!” 

It seemed to work. Everyone was clearly still scared, but the sharp edge of panic had dulled somewhat. Crowley kept splitting his attention between the approaching group and his dwindling crowd. They were down to only a quarter now, but he could also pick out individuals among the mob without sharpening his sight. Ten left. Five. And that was the last of them. The townspeople were now close enough that Crowley could give them a wide grin and jaunty wave as he ducked into the cave after the children, sealing the passage behind him. And they were safe.

As soon as Crowley was through, a loud cheer went up that echoed through the cave. Children ran at him and mobbed him, giving him hugs and kisses only to be pulled away by the person behind them who wanted to do the same thing. Everyone was talking to him at once so he couldn’t make out more than a “thank you” here or a “we’re free” there. He let himself get caught up in the excitement and grinned and laughed along with the kids. 

Eventually, everyone calmed down somewhat, and Crowley had the chance to look around. He saw Skeptic. “Hey, Skeptic, what did you do with our donkey?”

“He’s outside. I gave him some hay and tied him on a long lead so he won’t wander but can move a bit.”

“Excellent, I’ll go out soon and check on him. See if I can’t work something out that’ll let us untie him and keep him from leaving.” Crowley turned his attention to the group at large. “All right all of you! There’re a few things we have to do today! First, who here can hunt?”

A couple hands went up.

“Excellent! If you look on our cart, you’ll find bows and arrows. And a few slings. I’ll need you to come with me to find us some dinner for tonight. Next, we need to look through the caverns and figure out where you want to sleep and get something down to sleep on. We have some hay on the cart we can use, everything else we’ll have to scrounge up from the land around us. Now, go examine the caves, travel in groups of at least five, and make sure you never go so far you can’t find your way back. Hunters, come to me.”

The afternoon was a busy one. Crowley and his hunters managed to take down two deer and a few rabbits and squirrels which they roasted for dinner. First thing on the to-build list would be ovens so they could bake bread. And on the to-buy list was a large cauldron for stews. They didn’t have anything near large enough for over a hundred people. But the meat was good and they all got more than they’d had for one meal since Christmas. One of the hay bales they had bought as food for the donkey went into bedding in a large chamber where they’d be sleeping. It covered far more ground than it had any right to, and was supplemented with pine needles, carefully removed from any sharp branches. The older kids wanted separate areas for older girls and boys over ten, but that was left for the next day.

As night fell, they lit a large bonfire at the cave entrance and laughed and told stories and watched the stars until late in the night. After all the children were in bed, Crowley finished his report to Beelzebub and sent it off. He didn’t bother including the fact that the children had an end any different from that of the rats. Happy with a job well done, he lay down with the children and let himself sleep.

* * *

The next morning when he woke up, he had a roll of parchment in his hand. He unrolled it carefully and smiled. A commendation from Hell. With a snap of his fingers, it disappeared only to reappear, framed, in a secret room in an Egyptian pyramid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed reading this as much as I did coming up with the idea! I don't know when I'll have the sequel up, but hopefully in just a few weeks. 
> 
> I didn't work it into the story, but I like to think Eve is the one who gave Crowley the flute and taught him how to play it.
> 
> If you can, leave a kudos or a comment. They make my day.
> 
> Feel free to come say hi on [Tumblr](https://wolfjackle.tumblr.com/)!


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